First Flyght – Chapter 25

“This is… a lot of pigs.”

Lia scans the cargo bay, putting her keen eyes to the test. She chews on her lip as she silently counts the pigs.

“I count sixty-six.”

I’m about to object when she amends her statement.

“Sixty-five actually, minus Stella.”

“Okay. That’s accurate.”

Sixty-five pigs to be transported to a farm outside of Mayashu City on the Western Continent of Ossun. I’ve been to the Western Continent a few times to visit our family’s livestock station, but I’ve never been to this particular farm. The Eastern Continent was settled first, way back in the day, and it took a long time for people to emigrate because the countryside is so raw and untouched on the Western Continent. It’s a better environment for animals, not farming.

“Make sure they’re all settled and comfortable. Well, as much as you can.”

“Sure thing, Captain. I’ll feed them soon. That’ll keep them occupied until we’re ready to pull up stakes.”

“Oh, and Lia?” I run my hand through my hair as I consider this. “I want you to look into selling Stella when we reach Mayashu. Maybe buy us a few more chickens and another goat, okay?”

“Aw,” she croons, her face falling into a frown. “Poor Stella. Is it her time to go?”

My conscience wrestles with my business sense. “Well, you know. The only thing we’re going to get out of a pig is companionship and bacon. And I love Stella. I really, really do.” I cover my heart with my hand. “So, in the end, I don’t have the stomach to butcher her, and we don’t have the space to store a whole butchered hog, anyway. Might as well sell her to someone who does.”

As much as I have often wished to talk to animals and have them talk back to me, now I’m glad that’s not the case.

Lia nods. “Makes sense, Captain. Chickens give us eggs, and when it’s their time to go, they only last a meal or two. Better for this kind of travel.”

She cranes her neck to look at all edges of the cargo bay.

“I never really thought about animals in space until this trip, the logistics of it all. I’ll try to think outside the box for our future missions.” She nods once, and I get the feeling that she thinks this is how I expect her to act.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reassure her, placing my hand on her shoulder. “This is a new situation for all of us.”

The hum of a hoverlift whines louder, interrupting our conversation. Through the airlock connector, a large, cube container makes its way into the cargo bay directed by two men.

“What’s that?” I ask, and Lia shrugs.

“Don’t know. I thought we had everything.”

I make my way around the outer rim of the cargo bay, and already, I know that this will be the last time I transport so many animals at once. Skylar will not be happy about the amount of pig shit we’ll be cleaning up and out of here once we reach Ossun.

This is a paying job though. Paying job, Vivian. I need to remind myself of that every second of every day until these pigs are gone. At least we can isolate our air systems.

“Excuse me!” I hold up my hand to draw the attention of the men. “What is this?”

I rest my hand on the cube container. It’s cold and closed shut. Whatever it is, it’s not giving anything away.

The men ignore me while they direct the hoverlift to descend, set the container down, and unfasten the hoverlift.

“You’re Ms. Vivian Kawabata?” one man asks me. His hair is all spiked up, his skin golden. I dub him, Mr. Spiky-Hair.

“I am. And I’m the captain of this ship, so I’m asking you, what is this?”

“This… issssss…” The man accesses his wristlet and scrolls through his manifests. “This is a cryocontainer with fruit and vegetable seed stores, and… pig sperm.”

Both men roll their eyes at this last item. “As if pigs can’t get it on on their own,” the other guy whispers to Mr. Spiky-Hair.

“I heard that,” I say, setting my hand on the container.

“Sorry, ma’am. Please signal you accept the shipment.”

I remember nothing in my discussions with Gai Reis about a cryocontainer. I’ll have to speak with him about this next time we’re in Palo Alto space.

I acknowledge the receipt in Hecate, and Mr. Spiky-Hair hands off the hoverlift to his partner.

“Mr. Reis has given strict instructions that this cryocontainer is not to be moved, opened, or tampered with in any way.”

I bristle at the way he gives over this information, like he’s the captain and I’m just a lowly deckhand.

“When you reach the Customs inspection point after the Palo Alto-Ossun jump ring, speak to either Mr. Esperza or Mr. Mendelson. These two are… personal friends of Mr. Reis and will expedite your inspection. It’s better for the pigs to arrive at their destination without delay.”

There’s something fishy about this whole thing, and I immediately regret going outside of the safety and comfort of the Flyght system to wing this on our own.

“Esperza and Mendelson. Got it.” I resolve to note down both names as soon as possible. Names and me, we’re not friends.

Mr. Spiky-Hair smiles and nods. “Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Kawabata. I believe there’s a cat breeder on Ossun who needs a dozen litters shipped to Rio. Be sure to check in with Mr. Reis when you reach your destination.”

Cats. I can handle cats. I’m sure it’s better than pigs.

Lia follows them out and closes the airlock door behind them. I run my hand over the cryocontainer, thinking about what comes next.

“So, Captain. Will this be sufficient to get us over the hump? I’m just wondering if I have to start looking for jobs when we reach Ossun.”

Her question is innocent enough, but I know the story behind it now.

“We’ll be in Mayashu, a long way from home.”

“I know,” she says, raising her chin. I suppose halfway around the world from home is just as good as in space.

“I think we’ll be fine. If the stream of contracts keeps going, we should be able to support ourselves and the ship. The only real problem is we won’t be making any money.”

We leave the cryocontainer and walk around the pigs to the galley, shutting the heavy door behind us. No need to smell pigs while we get a snack.

“And making money is important, right? We need to return your family estate to your hands.”

“I never used to worry about money,” I say, sinking into the cushions around the communal table. “Now it’s all I think about, day in, day out.”

Lia scrounges through the kitchen, opening and closing doors, chopping, dropping things into bowls. I close my eyes, aware that the five hours of sleep I got are not enough to keep me going. But we’ll be on the float soon, and I’ll need to be awake for the release from space dock when we sign off our bills. I can go back to sleep after that.

I open my eyes as a tray slides onto the table.

“Eat something, Captain. It’s not like you to look so pale and exhausted.”

Lia has put together an array of snacks, like a poor woman’s charcuterie. Goat’s cheese, smoked meat, crackers, baby carrots, a bean spread of some kind, and hot sauce. I pick up a piece of goat’s cheese and slide it onto a cracker, slipping it all into my mouth. My jaw works to chew, but I taste very little.

Something is different about me. Is it defeat? Is this what life feels like when you’re beaten? I scan my body from head to toe. I’m still here. I’m still Vivian, though I have broken off into Bitch Vivian, Sad Vivian, Furious Vivian. There used to be love here. There used to be hope. How is this new Vivian going to fall in love with men? If the romance doesn’t come, will I be able to fake it? I hope so for the sake of my family.

Lia sits down across from me. “Do you like the cheese? I made it myself.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” I wish I had tasted it properly.

She spoons some bean dip onto her plate, picks up the bottle of hot sauce, and douses the dip with it. “Wow. I love this stuff.” She peers into the bottle. “We’re going to run out soon, though, and I have no idea where it came from.”

My eyes focus on the bottle. “It’s one of Dad’s. I’m sure I can get more for us.”

I take the bottle and splash some on the goat’s cheese before I take a bite. The hot sauce hits my tongue and erupts in flavor.

“Mmm!” I cover my mouth with my hand as the sauce hits the back of my tongue, heats up, and melds with the goat’s cheese. Hints of sweet vinegar, orange, and heat brighten my mood, and a small rush of endorphins jolts me to inhale.

“Oh wow,” I mumble out between crunches. “This is a good one.”

Lia holds out her hand for the bottle and adds a few more splashes to her dip. “This is the best hot sauce I’ve ever had. Hand to God. I feel warm and happy every time I eat it.”

I reach forward and drag another cracker through her spiced bean dip. This time the flavor dances with garlic too from the dip. My mouth heats and the rush of endorphins comes again.

I smile, and for the first time in days, the pleasure is genuine.

Lia and I eat in happy silence, working our way through the board she’s made and humming along to the music playing from Carlos’s den from down the hall.

When I start to giggle, though, I’m happily wary. If that’s even an emotion. Giggling? Since when do I giggle?

I pick up the hot sauce bottle and smile at it. The Happiest of Hot Sauces is printed on the label next to a smiling bear with a pot of honey emitting red hearts. One of Dad’s favorite things to do is design work. He designed the farm company’s logo, all of our marketing material, and then his hot sauces. I remember his attempt at Danger! Danger! Sauce about two years ago, with its black and yellow crime scene tape label. It was so hot that no one could stand even a drop of it.

“Well, Dad. You did it again. This is almost like a dr—”

I laugh again and cover my mouth. Holy shit. Is this spiked with something?

My heart pounds in my ears as my thoughts slip back to three years ago. I was knee deep in my first year home at Ossun Ag, studying and staying up all night. I had trouble sleeping back then, anyway. My breakup with Ken was still fresh, and he haunted my dreams. I was in the kitchen, eating (of course), and going over my notes for an exam the next day when Dad returned from a trip to Rio. It wasn’t abnormal for him to go to Rio. He has friends and family there he likes to visit, plus he was always on the hunt for new and interesting plants and vegetables for us to grow. He especially loved to find unique ingredients for his hot sauces. After a dozen trips to Rio throughout my late childhood and into my twenties, he had never returned with anything significant. Mom didn’t care because he always came home happy.

This time was different though. He had entered the house with a huge smile on his face. When he saw me, he was giddy, ran up to me, and squeezed me with a kiss on my temple.

“How was your trip?” I’d asked.

He laughed. “It was great. This was the trip that we needed.”

The ‘we needed’ threw me off. If anything, it was the trip he needed, since none of us had gone with him. He’d whistled and strolled off to bed, and I didn’t think of it again.

Until now.

I snap up from my seat, knocking my knee into the bolted-down table. The pain barely fazes me. I’m giddy from the hot sauce and feeling no pain.

No pain.

“Are you okay?” Lia asks, smiling up at me.

Dad had thrown his arm around my shoulder that night in the woods and said the box he gave me was Plan B. What was Plan B?

“I… I, uh…”

I stumble away from the table.

Dad!

What’s Plan B?