Page 2 of Alien Naga's Prize
“So, the paraxio is for the Prime Minister?” I say and instantly regret it.
Commander Smythe is on his tip-toes and right in my face.
“I didn’t hear that, McMahon,” he snarls. “And you’re lucky my hearing is failing me today because you’re on your last warning,” he hisses. “Get Mr. Cholmondeley released and apologize.”
“And the paraxio, sir?” I ask. I clearly hate myself.
Commander Smythe goes from puce to magenta. If it wasn’t for the fact my career is already DOA, I’d be hearing bells tolling.
“Release him and consider yourself on leave. Two weeks, no pay,” he grinds out.
“Sir,” I respond through gritted teeth. “I’m only doing my job,sir.”
“Three weeks.” He’s virtually vibrating with anger.
I open my mouth, but self-preservation finally kicks in with Dan moving into my eye line, shaking his head from side to side.
“Sir, yes sir.” I respond dully as the commander executes a swift about turn and marches off.
“Fuck! Jenna,” Dan commiserates.
I take in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh.
“It’s the way this place works, Dan. Some of us get shit on from a great height because we don’t have names which are spelt completely differently to the way they are pronounced, and some with silly names get to carry large quantities of narcotics up our bottoms and no one bats an eyelid.”
“If it helps, I didn’t recognize him either.” Dan says, unhelpfully.
“At least I got your credits,” I respond with a wan smile. “I’ll send over your relief, I’m sure the captain will assign you a new partner.”
“Take care, Jenna,” Dan calls after me as I make my way across the customs floor and out through the staff exit.
I release the idiotically named St.John Chlomondeley and force out an apology, only to have him threaten me with just about everything under the sun.
Too bad for him I already have naff all for him to take.
After I’ve endured twenty minutes of his behavior, he finally makes a very odd face and quickly departs. I suspect he will shortly regret his decision in terms of where he put the paraxio, but it’s little comfort to me. Or to him.
I trail my way home, through three levels of the crumbling star cruiser.
S.C.Britanniawas supposed to be England’s savior when she was launched into space as the tides rose and consumed the country inch by inch.
Instead she’s become a prison for us all, especially me.
“Hello there!” A very heavily made up woman accosts me from behind a pillar.
Her clothing is verging on garish as she shoves a small vid-screen into my hands.
“Have you considered signing up for the Starlight Lottery? You can win a new life on another planet,” she says brightly. “Far away from here.”
“Are you kidding me?” I point to the insignia of the security service on my lapels, tossing my dark hair back over my shoulder. “When I have such a stupendous life here?”
“Everyone loves a bit of change now and then,” the woman persists. “Ten pounds entry fee, and you could find yourself sipping cocktails on a pink beach next to an azure sea on planet Kalen where it’s always summer.”
I roll my eyes. “Or I could find myself in a star fuel mine on Planet Krud.”
“Absolutely not!” she trills. “All our prizes are carefully vetted. Nothing like that would ever happen.” She adds earnestly.
My hand closes around the credit chip in my pocket. Sure, I’ve heard the rumors about the Starlight Lottery like every woman on the ship, but can it bethatbad if the authorities allow it to run on board?