Your Classic Sci-Fi
Chapter 4
James sighed before holding her hand up to the open door button. There must have been some other use for her navigatory and maths skills other than plotting co-ordinates into a Google driven navigation system for a commercial voyage. She hated thinking about it for so long and on most days but when something that depressing hits you every day when you wake up, it's hard to think of anything else.
The door slid open with a slight whisper of a hiss, and Smith's inquisitory face popped through the threshold.
"Come on misery guts, could be worse," he chirped.
"Yeah, could be cleaning up some miserable guts, I guess," James shrugged.
"Ah," he chanced a look behind him at the food-splattered kitchen.
"I'm clearing up guts, aren't I?"
"Not entirely," he turned back to James's bored face with a slight grin. "There's some chip remnants too."
"Remind me why I always come to your aid in these situations," she couldn't help but laugh back.
"Now that's the smile we all love to see," he beamed back. "So," he said seriously whilst handing the girl a mop. "What was I so rudely interrupting, or daren't I ask?"
"I was reading," she grunted, grabbing the mop as she did so. James turned to analyse the foodstuffs slowly dripping down the wall from the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell it was before it was destroyed. She began to imagine it was alien blood and was the first clue a navigator would miss when helping out a colleague in the kitchen. It would be the strange disappearances that she'd notice next, and it would only be then that she'd begin to speculate about which passenger on board had the capacity to do such a thing. Or maybe she would think it was something they had stored in the cargo bay from the last port.
"Wow," Smith scoffed. "I'm terribly sorry for dragging you away for such things."
James closed her eyes and pretended not to hear the scream in her head as the Smith in her imagination was dragged from his feet and onto the floor, being eaten by the alien right under the protagonist's nose. She picked up the mop and prodded at the goo on the wall.
"Speaking of which, you didn't answer my question. Could you not have found someone more suitable for this task, like a cleaner?"
The goo was refusing to move and James began prodding at it with more and more force. Smith just stood watching her, head resting on his hands holding his mop, taking the opportunity to take in the sight of the tough old navigator tackling the squid remnants on the wall. He had to stifle a sigh. She wasn't beautiful in the regular sense of the word, with her hair generally strung up and her attitude tending to lean on the anti-social side, but she had some strange appeal to the boy. He didn't really get it, so he doubted she would either. So there was no real point in acting upon it.
Besides, he was pretty sure she was into girls.
"Because who else would I want to watch beating walls with a mop like a derranged loon?"
She turned at this, scowling at him. The boy was strange. If James didn't know any better, she'd swear he was just trying to get the pair alone. Not that she'd mind: a little romance or similar would at least spice the journey up a little seeing's how the passengers were all too well behaved. But she knew better, he wouldn't go for her. She was always pushing him away. Besides, she was pretty sure he was into guys.
"I dunno, that cabin boy seemed to have his eye on you before. Sounds like a perfect excuse."
Smith stood looking wide eyed at the girl.
"I'm not sure what's more shocking. The fact you just made a comment that was vaguely gossip-y and more aware of the bubble surrounding your little head or the fact the cabin boy might be checking out this fine piece of ass," he shook it around for good effect.
"I take notice of more than you'd think boy-o," she beat the goo one last time and stood victoriously over it as it sank to the floor. "I could have been a detective in another life. Maybe even a novel writer at a stretch."
"I'm not so sure," Smith pondered.
"Oh? And why not?" She turned and leaned on her mop in a similar fashion to Smith. It was only at this level that she had actually looked at the boy's hazel eyes. She'd never noticed the colour before and couldn't help feel a little intrigued. At which point she realised she really was so very bored of the flight that she was looking into hooking up with a cook. She felt a sigh coming along.
"Because you clearly haven't seen this fine piece of ass," he wiggled it, grinning a little more.
The door slid open with a slight whisper of a hiss, and Smith's inquisitory face popped through the threshold.
"Come on misery guts, could be worse," he chirped.
"Yeah, could be cleaning up some miserable guts, I guess," James shrugged.
"Ah," he chanced a look behind him at the food-splattered kitchen.
"I'm clearing up guts, aren't I?"
"Not entirely," he turned back to James's bored face with a slight grin. "There's some chip remnants too."
"Remind me why I always come to your aid in these situations," she couldn't help but laugh back.
"Now that's the smile we all love to see," he beamed back. "So," he said seriously whilst handing the girl a mop. "What was I so rudely interrupting, or daren't I ask?"
"I was reading," she grunted, grabbing the mop as she did so. James turned to analyse the foodstuffs slowly dripping down the wall from the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell it was before it was destroyed. She began to imagine it was alien blood and was the first clue a navigator would miss when helping out a colleague in the kitchen. It would be the strange disappearances that she'd notice next, and it would only be then that she'd begin to speculate about which passenger on board had the capacity to do such a thing. Or maybe she would think it was something they had stored in the cargo bay from the last port.
"Wow," Smith scoffed. "I'm terribly sorry for dragging you away for such things."
James closed her eyes and pretended not to hear the scream in her head as the Smith in her imagination was dragged from his feet and onto the floor, being eaten by the alien right under the protagonist's nose. She picked up the mop and prodded at the goo on the wall.
"Speaking of which, you didn't answer my question. Could you not have found someone more suitable for this task, like a cleaner?"
The goo was refusing to move and James began prodding at it with more and more force. Smith just stood watching her, head resting on his hands holding his mop, taking the opportunity to take in the sight of the tough old navigator tackling the squid remnants on the wall. He had to stifle a sigh. She wasn't beautiful in the regular sense of the word, with her hair generally strung up and her attitude tending to lean on the anti-social side, but she had some strange appeal to the boy. He didn't really get it, so he doubted she would either. So there was no real point in acting upon it.
Besides, he was pretty sure she was into girls.
"Because who else would I want to watch beating walls with a mop like a derranged loon?"
She turned at this, scowling at him. The boy was strange. If James didn't know any better, she'd swear he was just trying to get the pair alone. Not that she'd mind: a little romance or similar would at least spice the journey up a little seeing's how the passengers were all too well behaved. But she knew better, he wouldn't go for her. She was always pushing him away. Besides, she was pretty sure he was into guys.
"I dunno, that cabin boy seemed to have his eye on you before. Sounds like a perfect excuse."
Smith stood looking wide eyed at the girl.
"I'm not sure what's more shocking. The fact you just made a comment that was vaguely gossip-y and more aware of the bubble surrounding your little head or the fact the cabin boy might be checking out this fine piece of ass," he shook it around for good effect.
"I take notice of more than you'd think boy-o," she beat the goo one last time and stood victoriously over it as it sank to the floor. "I could have been a detective in another life. Maybe even a novel writer at a stretch."
"I'm not so sure," Smith pondered.
"Oh? And why not?" She turned and leaned on her mop in a similar fashion to Smith. It was only at this level that she had actually looked at the boy's hazel eyes. She'd never noticed the colour before and couldn't help feel a little intrigued. At which point she realised she really was so very bored of the flight that she was looking into hooking up with a cook. She felt a sigh coming along.
"Because you clearly haven't seen this fine piece of ass," he wiggled it, grinning a little more.