Tur: A Science Fiction Romance

Chapter 1

Tur

“Space. The Ultimate Frontier. We are the voyagers of the starship Product Number Two. Our continuing mission; To explore strange new women, to seek out fun and new ways to party, and to boldly go where—“

The burly, scarred, violet furred Odex in the command chair slams his fist down on his console.

“Tur, shut up. I’m trying to talk to my fiancée.”

Here on the bridge of the PN2, my seat is situated front and center before the main viewscreen. Brax the Unstoppable, former pit fighter and my current commander, sits at the command station which is a good eight feet behind me. The seat next to him, intended for our future communications officer, is occupied by a tall, lovely  human woman named Bonn Ventara. She’s one of those fancy Companions, and what she’s doing with Brax I’ll never quite understand. 

Nah, I don’t really mean that. The truth is they make a great couple, with tons of chemistry despite their obvious differences. Am I jealous? Maybe a little, but then I remember that the galaxy is just full of women waiting for my, shall we say, ample charms.

“But you talk to her all the time. I only get to do this whole intro thing once.”

“Just make the super luminal jump calc, Tur. You’re supposed to be some kind of genius savant at this whole piloting thing.”

I spread my hands and grin.

“I’ve already made the calc, fearless leader. I’m just waiting for your go ahead to engage.”

Brax inhales deeply though his nose, and visibly calms himself.

“Then engage, by all means.”

“You got it.”

I hit the engage key, and the PN2’s nacelle hyper light drive kicks in. For a few moments there’s a rushing whir as they get up to speed and the intertial dampening matrix dials up to maximum. Then the merry, twinkling stars around us become streaks of light as we hit FTL speeds.

“There we are, course set in for Coalition Peacekeeper station zero zero four two.” I kick back in my seat and prop my feet up on the console. “Estimated length of our jump given current conditions is thirteen minutes, twenty five seconds.”

Bonn frowns as she leans forward to peer out the viewscreen. I think she’s still getting used to this constant space travel.

“I don’t understand why it’s taking us longer to go a shorter distance.”

Brax tries to stammer out an answer, but he’s out of his element. And also wrong. Graciously, I step in to save him from embarrassment caused by ignorance.

“Well, actually, it’s like this Miss Ventara.” I turn around in my seat slightly and spread my hands. “Like most of us who grew up on a planet, you think of distance as being a straight line from point A” I wriggle my left hand “to point B. And that’s fine when  you’re on a planet, or even in a solar system. But once you start dealing with interstellar travel, it all goes to shit.”

I clap my hands together. Bonn starts, but Brax just rolls his eyes. That doesn’t deter me from continuing my oration, however. In fact, it only serves to encourage me.

“Space isn’t just an expanse—it’s folded in on itself, and any time you deal with faster than light travel you’re also moving in time as well as space. Unless we make the calc just right, and take a precise path dictated by current galactic conditions, then we might end up a hundred years in the future—or even the past. Fortunately, the geniuses who came up with the super luminal drive solved that problem. So that, in a nutshell, is why it sometimes takes longer to make a short superluminal jump than a long one.”

Brax snorts.

“You call that long ass diatribe ‘in a nutshell?’ You do know what that Terran phrase means, right?”

I squint my eyes and shrug in annoyance.

“Yeah, I know what it means. I’m not stupid. It’s like saying ‘in summary.’”

“No, it doesn’t.” Brax jabs his finger at me in triumph. “It means you condense your explanation, small enough to fit under a nutshell.”

“Like, a literal nutshell?” I tilt my head to the side. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. How do words fit into a nutshell? Do you write them down really tiny?”

Brax sputters, trying to find his footing.

“Bah, you need to step outside of the literal realm.”

“But a nutshell is a literal thing, right? Why say such a thing if it doesn’t have a real meaning?”

Brax’s hands close into fists, and he trembles with restrained rage.

“I just told you the real meaning. Are you dense, or just trying to get a rise out of me?”

I purse my lips as I seriously ponder the question.

“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe a little bit of both?”

Bonn chuckles and puts her hand on top of his clenched fist.

“Calm down, dear. You know Tur can’t always help the things that spew out of his mouth.”

“He needs to learn impulse control then, because otherwise this association will never work.”

Bonn sighs and pats his hand.

“Tur helped us out a great deal during our escape from Gorn.”

“Yeah, Brax. Are you forgetting about my sick piloting skills?” I turn to Bonn in query. “Did I use that phrase right? Does sick mean good or does sick mean bad? I mean, I know it’s bad when you’re talking about someone with an illness, but what about—“

Bonn holds up her hand, her smile growing strained.

“Yes, you used it correctly given the context.”

“Oh, good.”

Brax snorts and punches the keys on his console.

“If you’re such a great pilot, then why does Alru want to pull you off the PN2 for her own enigmatic purpose?”

He’s referencing our recent orders, which have me disembarking on Peacekeeper station. I don’t know why the Ataxian priestess in charge of our little gang of elite operatives wants to pull me out of the game, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to tease Brax a little.

“Obviously, Alru is into me.”

“Oh, by the Glades of Light.” Brax rolls his eyes to the ceiling, a gesture he picked up from his Companion. “What makes you think that could possibly be true?”

I scoff and shake my head.

“Because all women are into me. Duh. You can’t make a super luminal jump anywhere that I haven’t bagged ‘em and tagged ‘em, if you catch my drift.”

I turn to Bonn, but she holds her hand up.

“I don’t even want to answer any questions about that cringe worthy turn of phrase.”

“Don’t creep out  my fiancée, Tur.”

“Yeah, well…” I know I should apologize, but it’s so damn hard. Like I’d rather pull out my own teeth than apologize. Like I’d rather walk up to the biggest Odex in the bar and tell him his mother was a Vakutan. Like I’d—

“You do know you’re saying all of this out loud, right?”

I close my mouth. I hadn’t actually, but I’m not about to admit that. So I merely shrug.

We come out of the jump a few clicks away from Peacekeeper station. Despite the fancy name, it’s little more than a floating refueling station with some offices for the military brass and the Ataxian clergy. I bring us in on an approach vector and request clearance for docking.

The PN2 handles like a dream. There are maneuvering jets all over its squid like exterior, and it can fly in virtually any position even in at atmosphere. I notice a Coalition shuttle carrying fresh recruits, and many of t hem press their faces against their windows as they watch us slowly spin into docking position.

“Air locks connected, changing our gravity plane to match the station’s, and engines in standby mode. She’s parked, Commander.”

“Good work, Tur. When you stop talking you  manage to do an excellent job.”

“Aw, I’m getting all misty eyed over here, Brax. You really do like me.”

“No, I don’t. I can barely stand to be in the same room with you. But you do have your uses.”

Bonn stands up and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Brax, that was uncalled for. You need to apologize to Tur.”

Brax winces, and glares up at her.

“Are you serious?”

She continues to stare, her green eyes boring holes into Brax’s skull.

“He’s a jerk.”

More staring.

“Oh, fine. Tur, I’m sorry I said mean things.”

Bonn snorts this time.

“Not bad, I suppose, but next time try not to sound like a petulant toddler. I am in no mood to raise my future husband.”

I start laughing, and Bonn has a slight smile on her face, but Brax just gives me a withering look.

We disembark, and go our separate ways. I head through the narrow, winding corridors of the station until I find the Ataxian shrine. The statue of Ataxia looks down with her ever present benevolent smile. I’m glad that the hard liners got ousted from the Coalition government, because for a time I found statues of the goddess to be oppressive in spite of their jovial appearance.

Now I’m not really dreading the meeting with Priestess Alru. Despite what I said on the bridge, though, I’m not even going to come close to hitting on her. She’s a priestess, and off limits. 

I mean, unless she seems to be into me, then maybe.

I clap at her door, because I can’t figure out how to use the door chime. There are a lot of buttons, most of them with the words worn off. Peacekeeper is an old station.

A moment later the door slides open, and Alru stands before me in her  holy vestments. She’s a Grolgath, like me, but there the similarities end.

“Tur. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“I live to serve.” She steps away from the door and extends her arm, inviting me in by gesture. I walk into her chambers, and see that wall to wall is crammed with datapads and old fashioned tomes. There’s a desk buried under a plethora of pads and books, and what looks like a big metallic oval of some sort.

She smiles gently. That smile says she knows exactly what kind of guy I am, and she’s okay with it. To a point.

“Please, sit—that is, if you can find a place. Just set those books on the floor. That’s good.”

She settles in behind the desk and folds her hands before her.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I summoned you today.”

“The thought had crossed my mind, yeah.”

“As you know, the Coalition Contras are meant to counter the success of the Alliance Penetrators. In order to replicate their success, we must match their make up and roster as much as is possible.”

“Yeah, I follow that.” I shift a bit in my seat nervously. “What’s my counterpart’s name again? Zylan? The guy with the bug?”

Her eyes widen a bit, and she leans forward in her seat.

“Yes, most astute. The ‘bug’ in question is why you are here at this moment in time.”

I cock my head to the side and frown.

“Ah, okay. What, are you going to give me my own little creepy monster?”

Alru purses her lips.

“Would that I could, but the organism known as ‘Kleid’ is of an unknown xenotype. However, I have found a species which may counter Kleid, and even provide you with some extra advantage.”

I look at the chromatic egg and start putting two and two together.

“No way.”

Alru smiles brightly.

“Yes way. This egg belongs to a Kazadour, a species native to the rather hostile planet of Teranus.”

“Isn’t Teranus in Alliance space?”

“Indeed. But we were able to smuggle an egg off world. Credits talk.”

I have to laugh at that.

“Yes they do, very loudly in fact. So, what am I supposed to do? Sit on it until it hatches?”

“Nothing so extreme. Just carry it with you, give the empathic bond time to form. The more you are near the egg, the stronger the bond will be when it eventually  hatches.”

“Great. I’ll just take this sucker back to the PN2, and—“

“Not so fast, Tur.” Alru holds up her hand. “Space travel, particularly at hyper speed, has proven detrimental to the development of this species. You’re heading to Glimner via sub luminal shuttle later this evening. There you will be furloughed until such time as your Kazadour hatches, and you finish the bonding process.”

“Shit, how long is that going to take—wait a second, did you say Glimner?”

She nods, a knowing smile on her thin lips.

“As in miles and miles of pristine beaches Glimner.”

“Yes.”

“As in total paradise vacation world Glimner?”

“The very same.”

I take the egg and tuck it under my arm. It’s lighter than I expected it to be, but also cooler. Weird.

“When do we sail again? You know, I can leave early.”