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The young man couldn’t help but smile at his fellow traveller, somewhat amused at the look on her face. The feeling is always fleeting, but unmistakeable. Technically the term was Trans-Spatial Nausea. Most folks who hadn’t the scratch or the desire for decent passenger comfort just called it “the grip”, with good reason. In that small, insignificant millisecond where you pass between stargates, shot from one solar system to another by bending the fabric of the universe, it’s as if your stomach is suddenly squeezed by an invisible hand, then suddenly let go, the effect of which was a slight upset of the stomach. Nothing serious, barely registering with an experienced traveller, certainly not in the enviro-controlled conditions of most passenger vessels. Hitchhikers in a barely shielded cargo hold though, not so much. Any newcomer to long-distance space travel could expect the full experience.
The young vherokior couldn’t help but chuckle a little now, his pale, fair-haired friend shooting him a sideways glare as she re-composed herself.
“Why the hell – hnf...” There was a pause while she tried to keep her last meal down. “... did we get this shitheap deal again?...” She took a moment to curse in Luminaire Gallente.
The vherokior kept on smiling, giving his friend a slap on the back. It was not appreciated evidently, as she again faced the challenge of not vomiting after 13 such jumps. “Because Vee, we’re getting paid to deliver the package. Not be seen, heard, or even breath the same air as... it.” He scratched his head in thoughtfulness. “Not sure it expresses enough human emotions to be called ‘she’”
“Heh, good thing we don’t get paid in appreciative complements and flirting.” It was Vee’s turn to smile now, her friend smiling back.
“Never going to let that one go huh.”
“Probably not. The other seven times though eh, who knows, we’ll all get old and forgetful one day... probably a good thing Kik’s here. Prevents someone getting all dreamy again... ” Vee mockingly put on a voice for the last bit.
The vherokior snorted, amused. “Shut up. Anyways she’s welcome. Means we don’t have to sit up there, pretend to be polite, by which I mean well paid.” He gives Vee a sideways smile. “Probably not good news for your lunch though”.
They laughed together, in that way that only good friends can really do, where they don’t have to say anything more to understand because they have shared enough to just know. Vee was lithe, strong but skinny. Her hair cut short at the side and grown out on the top, and her skin just a little paler than her hair. She didn’t look unusual, certainly not by the varied standards among the Gallente, but the hair and her very much smash-the-order dress sense (toned down for the mission) often earmarked her as a troublemaker. The vherokior on the other hand was a little more plain. More-or-less averaged sized, plenty fit but almost always hidden by his baggy clothes. Shaved bald with a modest ear piercing and Matari facial markings, he looked like a simple traveller, maybe a dockworker in the context of the mission. The moment was interrupted though by a sharp buzz from the communicator on the vherokior’s wrist. Still laughing a little to himself he answered.
“Are we there yet, Kik?” he said with a knowing smile. The answer came back swiftly and matter-of-factly.
“Chief. And yes. Get your gear ready.” Even over electrical comms the commanding but effortlessly smooth voice lost none of its gravitas. It seemed almost mismatched to the small framed Achuran man it belonged to.
The vherokior grinned a little and cleared his throat. “Yes Chief, ready on your word. What’s the game plan on arrival?” He looked to his friend who was already checking her pistol and pulling their gear from one of the cargo crates.
“The contact is keeping this low key. We dock up at station, the package is moved by me through customs. Meanwhile some of the contact’s people will move you through cargo processing, you scout ahead and keep eyes open. Pator isn’t as tranquil as it looks.”
“Yes Chief, ready on your word.” He began to check his own gear. “You want us to send up a jacket? Those business class cabins are cold enough but travelling with –“
“If it’s some hairbrained sarcasm about our protectee, save it. Plenty of time when we’re off the clock. ” The call ended there.
The vherokior sighed half-heartedly “Well... one day he might actually smile.”
Vee grinned and laughed. “Yeah, and one day the Jove will burst out of the Eve Gate and we’ll find they’re bright pink.” She chucked a magazine of ammunition to the Vherokior. “Gear up Kai. Time to go to work”.
Deftly catching the magazine, Kai smiled, loaded it into the pistol, and the pistol into his holster.
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Topic: To the Land, We Came - Chapter 2 (Read 1113 times)