Freelance
TravellerThe Astoundingly True Tale of José Fabuloso
This chapter appeared in the July/August 2024 issue.
Chapter 10
A few hours later they wordlessly climbed back into the taxi. The winds had died with the afternoon but none of them asked for the top to be lowered. M'Elise looked as despondent as when arriving. Squirrel had fresh runs in her make-up. Even O’Riley looked defensive. Only José, with a freshly washed mustache, seemed to be in any sort of positive mood.
“He was a nice man,” he said after a while. Squirrel brushed a new tear from her eye.
“Yeah,” she said. After a few more minutes she continued. “So what did he ask you guys about?”
There were another couple of minutes of silence. “He asked me about my family,” said José hesitantly. “My father, my mother, my sisters, my brothers.” After another pause. “My grandparents, my nephews, my nieces, my uncles, my aunts.”
“We get it” said O’Riley harshly. José lapsed into silence.
“I guess we’re not so good in the family thing” said Squirrel, sadly. O’Riley snorted. “I guess we blew it.”
“No,” said M’Elise eventually, without inflection. “He’s hired us. Full price. Two weeks. In cash or equivalent trade goods. Payable upon return.”
“So we’re freakish enough to scare his relations,” a word that O’Riley added great vitriol to, “into good behavior? How flattering. I could puke.”
“I think it will be fun,” said José. They all glared at him.
There was much to do in preparation, which drove any other concern away. Stocks had to be replenished, the cargo bay sanitized, and their dress uniforms fully cleansed of dust. Fortunately the local laundry service was very good at removing dust.
Research had to be done to plot their course. The normal merchant trade took them from highport or downport to transition point, across transitional space and back again. For this flight, though, they wanted a tour of the local system. A nearby satellite, an asteroid pair named for famous lovers, and a tour of the nearest gas giant and its cavalcade of moons. Not a very hard course, but an unusual one for a ship of their sort.
The couple arrived in the afternoon, late after the winds, with thirty or forty family members. The crew stood outside the ship in full dress to receive them. As instructed Squirrel greeted them by handing them a small loaf of bread and a bottle of liquor. The family cheered.
The bride, Carmencita, wore a cream dress with much white lace, hand embroidered. The groom, Raoul, wore a cream linen suit with a bright red sash. He returned the greeting by placing a small sword in Squirrel’s hand.
After another cheer there was a general mingling as everyone seemed to want to give well wishes to everyone else.
“Thank you once again, Señorita,” said Luis to M’Elise in his turn.
“It is a pleasure doing business with your family,” she replied in turn. She opened up her datapad and showed it to him. “Is this what you had in mind?”
“That will be most splendid” he said smiling broadly.
“Very well. If you can ask the family to return to the port’s observation deck once we seal up, that should avoid getting too much dust on them.”
“Most certainly!” he then left to make way for the other well wishers.
The sun had just set by the time they had closed hatch. Systems check proceeded without a hitch. Squirrel joined José and M’Elise on the bridge.
“Where’s our resident cargo canister of bitterness?” asked M’Elise.
“He’s with the kids. Wanted to be there to reassure them during takeoff. He said you were planning something.” She strapped herself in.
“Yeah. Something like.” She tossed the datapad down next to José. It had a figure sketched onto it.
“That’s pretty,” said José.
“It's a local good luck symbol. Do you think you can do it?”
“OK,” he said and lifted off.
“Do you want the blast helmet,” M’Elise asked Squirrel.
She checked her straps. “No, I’m good. Bring it on.”
The José Fabuloso lifted off in a cloud of dust. It rose towards the darkening sky, its heat shimmer barely visible in the dusk. Arching high it suddenly gleamed white as it rose above the shadow cast by the planet into the full light of the sun, already departed from the surface.
Bright billows of steam suddenly trailed behind it as dumping waste water vaporized into steam. The ship then curved, spun and twirled. The trail tracing a curved cross spiral design in the sky shining brightly, long after the sonic booms faded.
Once orbit had been achieved, several hours later, the crew settled down for dinner in the galley. M’Elise poured espresso while Squirrel brought the prepared dinner in for the couple. “No burst blood vessels after takeoff?” she asked the old man.
“Nope. I’ve weathered worse. Thanks for asking. The kids are fine too. Apparently they’ve been well prepared by their entertainment media. They assume such take offs are normal.”
“But they are!” said José.
“Only on this ship,” said O’Riley. He blew on the hot espresso, took a sip, and then added a nip from his flask. He offered it around but was refused.
The oven dinged and M’Elise dropped a bowl into the center of the table. “Don’t complain, it’s the last of the Ventry starch balls. Suffer them once more and never again.”
“They’re pasty, pasty, very-very pasty,” sang José.
Squirrel came into the room biting her lip. She didn’t sit down.
“Problem?” asked M’Elise around a dumpling.
“Um, yeah. Sort of.”
“If the blessed duo doesn’t like the grub I'll happily trade,” offered O’Riley.
“It’s not the food. It’s the company.”
“So stop hovering and let them eat in peace,” said the old man.
“That’s the rub. They want to eat with us.” They stared at her puzzled. “Seems their custom is to all eat together. They’re quite uncomfortable.”
M’Elise scooted over on the bench. “They’re paying. It’s going to be crowded.”
And crowded it was. Raoul and Carmencita came timidly out and squeezed onto the bench. Squirrel made several more trips returning with the elaborate food that had been prepared for them and it got even more crowded.
They seemed at a bit of a loss of where to start until O’Riley unceremoniously helped them to several of his dumplings and helped himself to the multilayered terrene that had been served to them.
“We’re pretty casual” said M’Elise by way of explanation. Squirrel sat on the only space available, the galley countertop.
“These are good” said Carmencita. “I have never had them before.”
“Vestry’s finest,” said O’Riley, helping them to more. “We’ve had little but.”
“How are they made?” asked Raoul.
“You take them out of their wrapper, sprinkle them with water, and put them in the oven for two minutes,” said José. “Even I can make them.”
They seemed surprised. “You do not prepare your own food?”
Squirrel pointed around. “There isn’t a lot of room.”
“There is no good grazing for the herd yips” said the old man.
“The chicklizards would get sucked into the engines” added O’Riley.
They laughed and ate their dumplings. The rest quickly helped themselves to the rich food.
“So how is married life?” asked Squirrel making conversation.
They looked at each other awkwardly. “We are only just starting” said Raoul.
“But you’ve been married for seven years.”
He shrugged. “We are only starting our married life now.”
“We have only met a few times” said Carmencita.
“How did it happen?” asked Squirrel.
“Oh. That is easy! Will you please pass Mr. O’Riley the salt?” She did so. “Now say ‘Toocha ego mulano’.” She tried and they laughed at her pronunciation. “Now please pass him the, what did you call it? Vestry paste? And say ‘Toocha ego tort’.” She did better this time.
“Now, Mr. O’Riley, please pass Miss Squirrel your knife and say ‘Toocha ego mucaro’.” He did so with a flourish. “Grandfather, please say ‘Benito’” The old man said it with great solemnity.
“There” said Carmencita, “Now you are married!”
O’Riley cheered and made a playful lunge for Squirrel. “And now for my conjugal rights!”
She brandished the knife back at him. “Oh no you don’t. You’ve got to wait seven years!”
They all laughed.
The next day they made a close pass of Mérida’s satellite. Raoul and Carmencita watched from the bridge. Lacking prior experience they were merely thrilled at passing vacuum blasted rocks closely at high velocity rather than being terrified.
José let each of them line up the controls, first for the deorbital burn, and then to set their trajectory for the lover’s asteroids.
Later nothing could persuade them not to cook dinner in the galley. Amongst their luggage they had brought a selection of dried goods and produce preserved in pepper sauce. They set table in their cabin which was much more comfortable.
“Then I used your mollusk crackers with some water to make a casing to keep the yip shank in” explained Raoul, carving the breaded and marinated meat.
“I really must learn to cook,” said Squirrel in fascination. “I can’t believe what you made from the crap in the galley.”
“Yes, yes!” said Carmencita. “We will teach. We all cook for each other on Mérida. Sharing this knowledge is the highest hospitality.”
“I will teach you how to set the timer on the oven,” offered José.
“If you get your rating as cook,” said M’Elise, “Your service grade will go up. We can charge more and you get paid more.”
“Seriously?” she asked. “Awesome! How do I do that?”
“You take a test at some starport with a merchant marine affiliated college. I’ll pull the syllabus for you.”
“It seems so strange that there are rules for grading cooking,” said Raoul. “The skill is in the variety and tailoring to your guests.”
“I second that,” said the old man. “Regulation food wreaks havoc with my digestion.”
“We regulate everything,” said M’Elise. “Too many stars. Too many different people. Given the choice between consistency and quality people will always pick consistency.”
“She is a merchant marine graduate,” said José. The two seemed most impressed.
“I got certs in accounting, trade, law, administration, payroll and a qual in navigation, communication protocols, and weapon systems.” The rest looked even more impressed.
“No wonder you placed in a Botany Bay Company ship,” said Squirrel.
“I'm surprised they didn’t make you a second Lieutenant straight off.”
M’Elise was quiet for a bit. “I placed 3rd class steward on the Rich Kingford.”
“That was my ship,” said José. “I was 3rd class engineering” he added proudly.
Squirrel looked aghast. Even the old man seemed taken aback. “I do not know much about said things,” said Carmencita, “but that seems a bit of a low placement for such qualifications.”
“Placements are based on your rank in the class, not your quals and certs” she said, not looking up from her food. “I ranked in the 32nd percentile.”
“How is that possible?” asked Raoul. “I can see you are very studious. It is hard to believe that two thirds of your class was even more so.”
“Let me guess,” said the old man. “Rampant cheating? Blatant bribery? Coercion? All of the above?”
“Something like,” said M’Elise.
“That sucks,” said Squirrel, “big time.”
“But you are first officer now on this very good ship” said Carmencita. “Your luck has clearly changed.”
M’Elise laughed ironically and looked around. “With this crew? The jury is still out.”
The meal ended once more in laughter.