Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Excuse me, Miss—why haven’t you taken your seat yet?” The flight attendant was suddenly at her shoulder, a frown on her shiny gold face.
“I, uh…this, er, man says I’m supposed to sit on his lap,” Kara said uncertainly. “But that can’t be right—can it?”
“I’m afraid it is. Look—see here? Our Ultra Express Economy seats are always sold with the understanding that you might have a seatmate.” The flight attendant waved the silver foil ticket and pointed to the tiny alien script near the bottom that Kara hadn’t been able to decipher earlier. “That’s why these seats are so cheap.”
Kara began to feel sick. There was no way she could sit on the horny, slimy oatmeal alien’s lap for the four-hour flight to Paradise Prime! She would have to eat the cost of this vacation and just stay home in her suite aboard the Mother Ship for a few days instead.
“I’m sorry,” she said faintly. “But I didn’t know that. I’m afraid I can’t take this flight—I need to get off the shuttle.”
“I’m afraid that’s going to be impossible—we’ve already undocked from the Kindred Mother Ship. In fact, the pilot is just waiting for all the passengers to be seated and strapped in before we enter the first wormhole,” the attendant said, frowning sternly. “So if you’d please take your seat, I’ll let him know we’re all ready to go.”
“But…but I can’t,” Kara exclaimed. The more she looked at the alien in 521 A, the more he looked like he was made out of boogers rather than oatmeal. She just couldn’t sit in a snot-monster’s lap for four hours—she couldn’t.
“Why not, darlin’?” the alien demanded, his lumpy features turning down into a frown. “I promise to keep my hands to myself. Mostly.” He leered at her.
Oh God, this was getting worse and worse! Kara groped for an excuse.
“My dress!” she said, pulling at the stretchy black fabric. “It’s dry-clean only. And I don’t think I’d be able to get your, er…excretions off of it.”
“Excretions? You talkin’ about my slime, darlin’?” Mr. Oatmeal/Snot demanded. “What’s wrong with it? I’m Octobursorian, you know. We’re covered in the finest slime this side of the galaxy!”
“I’m sure it’s lovely but, er, I’m allergic to slime,” Kara said, thinking up a new reason she couldn’t sit in his lap. “Yes—deathly allergic! I could have a reaction and die if I come in contact with it! I really could,” she said, appealing to the flight attendant, who didn’t look in the least convinced.
“Miss,” she said sternly. “The entire shuttle is waiting for you to get strapped in before we can take off. Would you please take your seat?”
“But I really can’t!” Kara protested, her voice going high and tight in protest. Mucus made her sick and the more she looked at Mr. Oatmeal, the more disgusted and nauseated she was. “Isn’t there anywhere else I can sit on the shuttle?”
“No, every seat is full. Now are you going to take your seat or do I need to get some of my fellow attendants to put you in it forcibly?” the attendant demanded. “If I have to do that, I can assure you that the Paradise Peace Keepers will be waiting for you once the shuttle docks. And the penalty for delaying a shuttle or causing a scene during interplanetary transportation is a whole year in jail. Is that what you want?”
“No, of course not!” Kara exclaimed. “But I can’t—”
“She can sit with me.”
The deep voice was familiar. Kara looked up to see the semi-transparent seat divider between seats 521 and 522 being lowered. Soon a face she knew was revealed.
“J’orn?” she asked blankly. “Is that you?”
It looked like her old assistant…but not. The old J’orn had been clean-shaven—this J’orn had a closely clipped beard. The sharp points of his curving horns had been capped in some kind of black metal and he had tattoos now—she could see one curving up from the open collar of his shirt to cover the side of his neck. He looked…harder somehow, she thought. As though he’d seen a lot of unpleasant things since they’d last been together and it had marked him.
“Kara,” he rumbled and nodded at her. “Did I hear you say you need a different seat?”
“Yes, she does,” the flight attendant said briskly. “Says she’s allergic to slime.” Her tone made it clear she thought Kara was lying.
“Well, she is,” J’orn said mildly. “I happen to know it for a fact—I used to work for her. We always had to be careful she never came in contact with any slime—it might kill her.”
“Oh.” The flight attendant looked at Kara with new respect. “My apologies.”
It miffed Kara that the attendant only believed her because a male backed her up, but she was in no position to be indignant. Also, she was lying through her teeth about the slime—it was probably better not to fight about it.