Stellar Cruise Part 1

Just another day on an interstellar cruise, we find some of the passengers getting to know each other...

The darkness of space stretched infinitely in all directions. One could look out any viewport and see the same shimmering black velvet, broken only occasionally by brief flashes as a celestial body was passed. Though there were many similarities between the seaside and the starscape, it was mostly a contrast.

Planetside cruises are exhilarating; they have an intrinsic beauty all their own. One could find creatures swimming alongside, to pass on a measure of luck to passengers and crew. Oceans have crisp winds, laden with sea salt to invigorate all that walk topside. Lounging in the sun can rejuvenate even the weariest of souls, on their short trips of a few weeks to a few months. Any monotony that might develop could be alleviated at one of the many exotic ports of call with their wild cultures.

Interstellar cruises, on the other hand, have none of that. Just parsecs upon parsecs of empty nothingness. Even with FTL, or faster than light travel, it took months, usually years, to cross the void. That meant a lot of time to kill, and quite a bit of painful boredom.

Even planet side cruises have a permanent position for an entertainment coordinator. After all, there are many ships' entertainers, and someone has to be in charge. However, with nothing to do, and everyone, all 70,000, passengers and crew looking toward Xedra's department for a break from the tedium, and blaming her for the hum-drums of life, she was going mad with frustration.

For three cruises, more than a decade, this single girl approaching middle age had struggled with the constant conflict of possible and entertaining. Every morning, checking the messages from the night before was like misogynistic, masochistic orgy. Always a complaint about this or that, and most could not be solved. Worst of all, her inbox had become the catch-all for insults and other color full statements that could not really be understood.

This morning's self-mutilation had a silver lining, however. A small-time band making the trip had the great idea for a battle of the bands. Xedra hoped that it would bear fruit, as she was out of useful ideas herself. She waited in one of the smaller lounges at the bottom of the ventral section, wondering how a new stain appeared in the corner, and impatiently waiting. She was supposed to meet a representative from the band with the great idea, but it was getting dangerously close to time for the morning meeting.

"This had better be worth it if I'm late," she groaned, glancing at her Chrono, again.

As if on cue, the automatic sliding door whooshed aside to allow the entrance of a young girl, “Good morning, are you Alexis Valkyrie?” Xedra stood and asked, regarding the pup of a girl.

The girl looked to have just barely graduated high school, if indeed she had even attended the declining institution. Her shiny light orange fur was a stark contrast to Xedra’s own matte brown, prematurely thinning fur, the youngling’s long furs had just barely started to grow down her back, (a quick gauge for measuring age of a woman) for crying out loud, Xedra’s own long fur was sprouting just past her shoulders.

The youngling wore the current fashion of the youthful passengers; loose fitting tan long-shorts, just covering her haunches, leaving plenty for a young man’s mind to play with. Her short sleeve blouse was light green and her unders perfectly supported her four average mammaries. She didn’t even bother to wear shoes, understandable, as they were more than uncomfortable.

Alexis smiled pleasantly and accepted the fore-paw shake of her elder, “Yes, and you must be Xedra Stone. Pleased to meet you.”

Alexis regarded the older girl as she indicated they should have a seat. The elder’s dark purple eyes were becoming bloodshot, she obviously hadn’t been sleeping well. Why was it, Alexis wondered, that old people always looked tired?

The pair took their seats back at the table Xedra to get to business, “Well, Ms. Valkyrie...”

“Please, Xedra, I’m not an old lady, its Alexis...”

“Please, Alexis, its Ms. Stone, I’m bound by protocol...” Xedra forced a smile.

Please tell me that’s why you’re wearing, well, that?” Alexis grimaced emphatically looking Xedra up and down so she would know she was being judged.

It was true, Xedra silently lamented. Her ship’s uniform was rather lame, and that was being nice. Faded blue, too short pants, not short enough to be long shorts but not real pants either. Her aged bright blue polo did not compliment her less than average mammaries, then again few things could. Worst of all, her black ‘combat’ boots, that regs said should be shiny; she considered the senior staff lucky if they were blackened at this point.

“Yes,” Xedra barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “That’s why I dress like this. How about we discuss relevant things?”

Alexis shrugged, as far as she was concerned fashion was the most relevant thing in the universe, “Your call, Ma’am.”

For a moment, the room was silent, bringing to mind the compartment’s true purpose. This lounge was one of the many rendezvous lounges, located discreetly through the ship. They were just big enough to have a few alcoves, spaced out so passengers, and sometimes crew, could meet and have a little bit of privacy. Xedra hoped no rendezvous would happen while she was here. It was bad enough she didn’t have any luck with the other gender, but being forced to be reminded of it every day was just not nice.

“So, you’re the ringleader of this little band thing?” Xedra started after a few calming breaths, and putting on a happy face.

“Well, more sacrificial lamb,” Alexis shrugged, “We didn’t really know how the staff would take to the idea. To be honest it wasn’t even our idea, some passengers were watching us practice, we decided to put together an impromptu show, and they liked it, told us about some other bands that were doing the same thing.”

“Your message did say there were others, and that they had already signed up? How did you get so many, so fast, without even being officially endorsed?”

“That’s the thing, it wasn’t even that hard, they came to us, like I said, sacrificial lamb. As you are aware, some of us have been using lounges like this one as private stages...”

“I was not aware, but that explains a few things,” Xedra groaned, remembering one of the many particularly ornery stains.

“Oh, shit, we’re in trouble...” Alex’s eyes grew in horror, as she tried to back away.

“No, just make sure from now on, you clean up after yourselves.” Xedra quickly calmed the girl, and checked her Chrono, “I’m going to take this idea to the captain, like right now, and with luck we can put together a battle by the end of the week.”

“Sounds great!” Alexis jumped in to hug Xedra, “As soon as the band gets here, I’ll let them know.”

Xedra’s wrist Chrono alarm went off, and she carefully excised the youth, “I have the AM staff meeting, like now.”

Alexis glanced at her own wrist Chrono, “Morning, really? Good luck Ms. Stone, and thanks.” She called as the elder left the lounge.

Xedra walked out of the lounge like she was walking on air. Nothing good had happened to her in such a long time, it was so exhilarating. She would have to hurry to get to the meeting on time. It was faster to go four down instead of two, but civilized people didn’t go four down. She was in such a good mood, though, she couldn’t stop herself from lowering to the ground. Her smile grew as she was off like a shot, ambling on all fours like a child after small game. She sped around a corner, and she didn’t even notice that she had ran over the local zealot, Kestra.

“Well, that was unpleasant,” Kestra snarled as she got up and dusted herself off.

When two down, she was a tall 2.5 meters, one of the tallest persons on the ship, quite intimidating. Especially with her platinum white fur, pinstriped with epic black. Meticulously maintained, she still bore the sheen of youth, even with her long furs sprouting below her shoulders. She was dressed in one of her best light green skirts, and even though she hated wearing them, because civilized people wore shoes, she had on her best candy apple green slippers.

As the First Oracle of Rralbresurl, old speak for ‘Way of the Path’, she had to be seen as completely civilized and above reproach. She had to give the appearance of having all the answers, even though she knew she didn’t. That was the hardest part of establishing a religion.

The wide corridor she had been searching for converts in, was currently empty. The passengers and crew had begun avoiding her on principle. This annoying fact was not surprising as ‘religion’, or more specifically the belief in a higher, possibly supernatural, power had fallen into disrepute in the centuries after FTL. Understandable, but not welcome. If she could not establish a base of power before the ship arrived planetside, she would never be able to truly establish her new religion.

As she approached a 4-way intersection, she slowed. Ambushing a person around a corner was still one of her favorite methods of eliciting listeners. The shock rendered them momentarily incapable of arguing. This could lead to seeds being planted, or so her studies of psychology stated. So far no luck. The wall panels were soft matte pastels, designed to blend into the background any scene or activity. Every so often there would be a generic picture or fake plant to break the monotony, and to help one keep track of where the hell they were.

Kestra peeked around the corner and spotted her newest victim. Light red fur, long furs beginning to sprout from the nape of her neck, loose white shirt and khakis, she was oblivious to everything as she approached the door to the promenade, intent on something that was only in her head. Quickly Kestra stealthed up to the tween.

“Have you given any thought to the direction of your life?” Kestra announced suddenly springing beside the girl.

Rory nearly jumped out of her fur. All the passengers had heard of the Snow Tigress Zealot, but she had assumed the stories about her sudden appearances were exaggerated, like any other tail told. All she had wanted out of this cruise was to get to the end so that she could ply her trade on the fringe world of Girdania. She was a proud graduate of Sentrral University, and she could not be bothered to believe in anything that could not be empirically proven.

As she turned to regard the other she started to reply curtly, “Would you kindly shove it, lady, I believe in facts and the fact is, you’re freaking huge...”

Kestra smiled, “Yes, I have been told this before, Sister...”

“I am not your sister,” all confidence drained from Rory as she backed toward the door, hoping her bladder would hold, “There is no conclusive evidence for a god...”

Kestra shrugged, and casually followed, “I never mentioned a deity. But, while we’re on the subject, there may not be proof for, but neither is there proof against, a god, or gods for that matter...”

Rory, on the verge of panic, fell through the door she had bumped into, and spilled out onto the promenade, where as luck would have it, two of the bigger security goons, waited. They had matching black fur, the long furs from their faces, (the rough measure of a man's age) had just started to round their faces.

They proudly wore their shiny badges, trying to attract companionship, they were probably littermates. Like any young and virile man, they both immediately stepped up to help the cute tween. They were not as big as Kestra, but as they were trained in hand to hand, and they had nightsticks, Kestra backed down.

“Security?” Kestra moaned, not liking the idea of a physical confrontation, and so backing up, “I’m not...”

The quartet now blocked one of the entrances to the vast interior space called the Promenade. This was like a huge multilevel mall. Shops, restaurants and open spaces allowed the people on board could meander and meet. With hundreds of people in sight, it was odd that they remained mostly oblivious of the scene. The few people that knew something was about to go down abruptly about-faced and walked away.

“Fore-paws on the bulkhead,” Goon One declared, as he split his attention between the two women.

“Bulkwhat?” Kestra backed into the wall.

“That thing you’re leaning against, Tigress,” returned Goon Two, with a smile, he like to act tough and loved the people that made it easy.

With the big white one subdued, Rory absently shoved the pamphlet into her pocket and walked on, pushing passed others, “What a giant white freak.”

Now that it looked like the scene was to be contained, a small ring gathered to watch the goons dress down the tigress that had been annoying them all month.

“She is a weirdo,” accepted Selna as she looked on the growing crowd at the door she was going to use to get to the passage, “No reason to kick her white striped ass while I’m trying to get the gym, though. Damn, I’m going to have to go around.”

Selna was a youthful looking chocolate goddess, even though with long furs starting a few centimeters below her shoulders. She had trained for years to master the arts of self-defense and fighting. She boasted a near zero percent body fat, and an athletic build that none could match. Her slightly taller than average frame was a pleasant combo of wiry and muscled. With a sigh, she turned her back on the scene and went in search of a different way.

She weaved her way towards the less familiar side passages to her favorite mini gym. With all these people on board and constantly around her she was more edgy than usual and she hated it. She looked forward to training all day every other day. Working her aggressions was the only thing that got her through this nightmare of a cruise.

Finally, she made it to the gym she took in a lungful of the crisp cold air that had the aftertaste of blood, sweat, and tears. Her light chocolate fur bristled with the pent up energy she hadn’t had a chance to unleash this week. Her loose-fitting grey sweats were still clean, but they would soon be drenched in sweat, like they were supposed to be.

She looked over what might as well have been her own private queendom, as she was the only one she had ever seen in it. This was a smaller gym, only a few machines, weights, and a small area covered in mats for wrestling, or whatever. Today though, on the mats was a sight she hadn’t expected. Loose shiny black shorts, tight sleeveless white shirt, stretching nicely across his intense abdomen. Even with the grey, perhaps because of the way it peeked through the black furs that had lost the sheen of youth, yet now the glint of sweet sweat...

Coffin moved with restrained power and precision beyond that of a master. He enjoyed mastering his body and was always intent on perfection. He had been recruited into special services at a young age and this was the first time in many years he had a say in his own affairs.

He noticed the girl as soon as she walked into the room. He was very good at keeping track of people; out of the corner of his eye, he watched. As he appraised her, he kept moving, hiding his approving smile. She was young, and if she was coming to really work out, obviously virile. Even her exercise unders failed to erode the sensuality of her ample mammaries, which was a bit odd with her low body fat.

Despite the dry spell he was currently on, a gym was no place to pick up a date, though, he had tried before. And so, after he finished his assessment, he did his best to ignore her, it took all his concentration to continue his forms without lust induced errors. Yet every time he did lose himself and glance over, she was closer. Now she was standing on the edge, in a trance and about to step into his little dojo-ett.

“See something you like, you can always ask to see more,” he hoped she didn’t take it the wrong way.

Snapped back to reality, Selna was shocked to notice where she was, “If I wanted it, and that is a big if, I could just take it, Old Man.” She hoped she sounded nonchalant.

A smile crossed his snout as he turned to her, “You are welcome to try, Youngling.”

Selna was not one to back down from a challenge, she eyed the old man, liking everything she saw. She stepped onto the mat and began some light stretching, hoping to distract her already warm and loose competitor.

Now, they stood two meters apart, face to face. They slowly bowed then came up in sparing stances. Coffin, being older, bigger, and far more powerful, took a low defensive stance, Selna, being younger, smaller, lighter, and more agile got on her toes to assume a lanky almost fluid stance.

Arms outstretched, she orbited her slowly turning foe, coming ever closer. As soon as her right fore-paw touched his, she knocked it out of the way and began a flurry of punches and knife hands at his face and torso.

He was faster than she thought, and managed to at least deflect all her blows with what looked like ease. Granted he was not as fast as her, but he was fast enough. He lowered himself and turned the long way around her to sweep her legs from underneath, she cartwheeled over him and back flipped to the edge of the mat.

Almost defying physics, she kicked off a pole to turn all her momentum back at him and spun to put the back of her heel to his snout. Just in time he caught her hind-paw and twisted to force her to redirect her energy again to avoid a broken leg.

She was on the ground, recovering her sense of balance, Coffin jumped over her with the intention of putting his elbow to her gut. She rolled away quickly and bounded up with excitement at finally having a worthy adversary.

Presently they orbited each other, exchanging blows with all four paws. Faster and harder they pushed themselves, trying to find the weakness in their foe's defenses. As part of an unspoken agreement, neither picked up one of the weapons Coffin had brought to train with. That did not mean they were opposed to using all the floor space of the gym in a cinematic fight scene.

Over under and around machines, weight racks, and poles, they just couldn’t stop, this was too much fun. As they fought they discussed the reasons they had chosen to abandon civilization in favor of a fringe world.

“Spec ops? Really?” Selna panted, “You guys usually get dead, not retired.”

“I got lucky, that, and I’m very good.” Coffin ducked behind a pole that Selna took a chunk out off with her elbow, “You know a thing or two as well it seems.”

“5th kyu grand master bea-gun fo, all styles.”

“So young, that’s impressive,” Coffin complimented, “Why leave it?”

“It’s gotten too stylized, besides, couldn’t find a challenge. Hoping to establish a new school and train in the fringe, like it’s supposed to be.”

Their conversation started to lag as their breathing became more erratic. It had been some time since either had a good match, neither wanted to be the one to stop.

They finally collapsed against a mirror, panting and covered in sweat, “Are you sure you’re retired?” Selna gasped happily, it had been too long since she was challenged.

"You should have seen me in my prime." He chuckled, "I might have been a match for you."

Selna grunted, "You would have easily spanked me. I barely kept up as it was."

They turned to regard each other and immediately began to drown in each other's eyes, "You don't give yourself enough credit, Sel, you do have all the skills of a master, they just need to be caressed..."

Unconsciously they moved closer together, "And I'm sure you’re just the guy to massage it out of me." She smiled.

By now they were a few centimeters from each other, their warm breath tickled each other's short furs. Suddenly they realized what was happening and hurriedly backed up. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Coffin gathered his assorted practice weapons, Selna attempted to straighten up her sweats.

"Well, uhm," he started, standing up, "It’s getting late, it was indeed a pleasure..."

Selna's stomach growled, "I guess it is about that time..." Coffin shrugged.

"Yeah, my plan was to get some chow after a light workout..."

"I had a similar plan." Coffin shrugged, "Care to join me..."

"We should really bathe..."

"...Wouldn't want the other passengers..."

"...Complaining about a stench..."

"...I'm 20 decks up..."

"...I'm down the hall..."

"...It does take women longer..."

"...You could come to my place?"

"...Wouldn't want to impose..."

"...Trust me, you wouldn't be."

"We could order room service?"

"What the hell are we waiting for?" Selna nearly growled as they made for the door.

Four down in excitement, they tore off through the passage, barely restraining the urge to rip off each other's clothes in the running foreplay.

"Umph, sorry, a couple of lust-crazed... well a couple ran me over." Rorrin talked into his flipcomm as he continued down the hall, "Look Frankle, I'm a mechanic, not a drink dispenser fixer."

Calicos really didn’t have a good color to dress in. Not that it mattered, Rorrin always sought to avoid any public appearance, preferring to stay in the service ways and away from people in general. His ‘uniform’ was just a set of almost ratty grey coveralls, of which he had 5. At least this set was clean, he had even shined his uncomfortable as hell boots out of something akin to boredom.

He had been working the bowels of the ship since he graduated high school more than a decade ago, he knew how to deal with the tedium, but still, being alone sometimes got to him. At least keeping up a 50-year-old FTL ship was a secure job, at least until the decom in 20 more years, too far in the future to worry about though.

“...Look, Ror,” the closest thing he had to a friend continued, “You can fix anything, I’ve seen it. Just go take a look at it for me. If you can’t fix it I’ll personally route the replace/refurb request myself.”

Rorrin sighed and stroked the bridge of his snout in frustration, “Look, Frankle, it’s not that I don’t want to try...”

“I know it's approaching the shift change, but if we leave it, it will be at least an hour before the next guys get to it.” The maintenance dispatcher pleaded, “And you know we’ve been having a problem with bored passengers trying to ‘fix’ things on their own.”

“Uhg, fine, gets me out of that damndable turnover anyway.”

“Thanks man, you’re a pal.”

“Just make sure you get the overtime forms filled out this time.” He snapped his comm shut and reversed his course to the promenade.

The promenade was the largest open section of the ship, going from the bottom of the passenger section to the top. Up the middle wound a grand double helix stairwell connecting all the levels all with catwalks and multiple stores and stalls to sell all manner of random stuff that a passenger or crew might need.

The smells of the restaurants caressed his nostrils as he made his way to the grand ballroom, now being used as a large mixers party buffet. Like all the passenger mixers, though, it was floundering.

The huge sliding, brushed glass doors parted to lose a cacophony of hubbub. Rorrin straightened out his coveralls as best he could, sighed dejectedly and walked in, in search of the broken drink dispenser. Skirting the edges he scanned the barcodes on each of the machine backs looking for the one that auto sent an aid request. After all, there were only two ways for a trouble call to be made, a passenger report, or an auto claim.

“Wait a tic,” he checked the auto request registry, “This was a passenger request, that means my port-a-scan is useless.”

He put the small device in his pocket and took out his flip-comm to ask if the claim had a machine number or he would have to figure it out. Then, he noticed across the aisle, bare hind-paws sticking from underneath a table.

“...Ror, man you fixed it already...”

“No, Frank, listen, was another main-tech dispatched to this?”

After the sound of typing Frankle returned a negative, “...Why?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” he crossed the aisle and tapped the hind-paws of the would-be main-tech, “Hey, buddy, what’cha doing?”

After some stunned silence, there was some fidgeting as the individual wiggled out, “Try’n to get this thing working...” He stood facing the drink machine.

He was a middle-aged man by the look of his trimmed mutton chops working their way down his chin. He was dressed simply in tan long-shorts that matched his fur and polo.

“How ‘bout you let ship’s company take care of that?”

He stopped fiddling with a set of tools and turned to regard his accuser, “Called it in a bit ago, but they, oh, you did show up, quick little bugger...”

Rorrin closed his eyes and looked up to the overhead to count to ten like anger management had taught him to do, “So, you report a broken drink dispenser, and what, immediately go get your tools to work on it?”

“No, that be silly, I carry them on me all the time, former main-tech myself, feel naked without them you know.” He stuttered, looking around for his out.

As Rorrin was about to respond a woman ambled up behind him, wrapped her arms over his shoulder, “See, hun, told you, you couldn’t fix it, it was an electrical problem.” she smiled to her man, then to Rorrin, “Oh, heya, Sweetie, are calicos really as wild as they say?”

Rorrin disentangled himself from the woman careful not to bump her mammaries she seemed to be forcing on him, “Look, Ma’am, I don’t care what you heard, If you're his wife...”

“Who?”

“Him.” He turned back to indicate the now vacant space by the dispenser.

He turned back in confusion and even the brown furred lady in red had disappeared, “What the hell?” he asked striding over to look at the ‘broken’ device.

After a few ‘dummy’ checks he hit a reset button in the back and the thing bubbled to life, “Why do they always take a running, blind leap past the obvious?” He asked, reporting his success and receiving a promise for an hour and half of paid overtime.