Pumpking

Issue 38

9 hours without incident

Life for the Pantheon is everything in the world except boring. If there were a word to capture the sort of break-neck pace that the heroes of the world kept, I would use it. They never did anything in halves or in quarters. I'd been asleep for about four hours, the early evening according to the alarm clock beside the bed, when the whole ship ramped into high-alert and this ungodly noise hiked up.

I all but jumped out of bed, hair a mess all knotted and floating around me- that was when I thumped into the ceiling, realizing belatedly, whatever magical technology that gave the ship gravity had just cut out.

I had no idea what I was supposed to do; if the gravity came back on suddenly this was going to be an issue, but if we did a barrel roll or something, I'd be—

Gravity came back on and I shrieked as I landed, twisting at the last second so I landed on my ass instead of my face. I gasped, lungs burning for a moment or two while the alarm overhead continued to scream at us. Then, in a very calm manner over the loud-speakers, a man announced. "We have avoided the black hole gravity well. Beta team has contained the rogue mutation attempting to destroy the ship. Dinner will be delayed by an hour due to gravity distortion affecting the cooking process."

I crawled back into bed and pulled the blanket over my head with a groan. I didn't want to know. If I died, there wasn't a lot I could do about it here in space, no use worrying about it.

I woke a few hours later, someone was knocking on my door. A soft, insistent knock. It didn't take a genius to realize that it had to be Daystar or Fast-lane. Phantom didn't knock like that. He was more the sort to just barge in.

I rolled out of bed, pleased to note only my pride was bruised form the fall, and wrapped the silk robe around my shoulders, quickly pulling my hair off my face and padding to the door. I waved a hand over the sensor and the door opened.

"I wanted to see how you were holding up?" Daystar, had dispensed with his costume, and was the smooth, light businessman I'd seen at work the first time. His white-blonde hair wasn't gelled back today, instead it ran a light wave across his scalp and his cornflower-blue eyes showed clear interest in the answer to his question.

"I'm... well..." I sighed, "I feel like such a petulant child, but I just want all this craziness to be done and over."

"I heard about the misadventure in the mess hall."

"You heard about that?"

"Fast-lane is one of my team-mates," He smiled and touched my shoulder softly, "Hey, you look miserable. A girl so pretty shouldn't let this sort of stuff get to her."

I sighed, stepping out of the doorway, "This sort of stuff? I'm not cut out for this sort of stress."

"What is it that is stressing you the most?" He stepped inside, ever the patient, time-making listener. How did he get the time to waste caring about my feelings?

I sighed, trying to narrow down my overall feelings of frustration. It was hard to put into words sometimes.

Daystar leaned forward, cupping my chin in his hand. "I see a woman who isn't panicking over her house being destroyed, who isn't wasting her time crying over the fear and terror she feels; a woman not hiding from the world that is exploding around her- by all accounts the sorts of things that would send most people running to the hills in a fret."

"What-- would panicking help?"

He smiled at that, "No, but this chaos would be enough to drive anyone to a corner with a stuffed animal- yet here you stand, annoyed and distressed, but not about the things you should be stressed about."

I mulled that over, wondering what he was trying to say, since apparently I was thinking slow tonight. "So you mean the idea of the psycho killer after me should have rendered me incapable of caring about anything else?"

"What worries you more- being embarrassed over the fiasco in the cafeteria, or facing Combustion in a day or two?"

"Truthfully? The cafeteria. At least with that lunatic I know I don't have to deal with humiliation and people thinking I'm some sort of—"I stopped, realizing that he was some sort of model himself. Perhaps those in glass houses had best put their stones down.

"Three weeks ago I fought off a zombie clone of myself that had been slipping through the hen houses of Papua New Guinea, raping animals."

I smirked at that, then laughed as I understood what he was trying to tell me, "It's not about what other people think, it's about how I view myself?"

He nodded sagely.

I exhaled, feeling a little less stressed. "Well, yeah. I suppose finding out an alternate reality me was on a dirty magazine isn't as bad as having to explain to the authorities that you haven't been raping livestock--- and overall, it doesn't matter if you don't convince people it's not you."

He moved to the little chair in the room; it was a small room; bed, chair, windows. Not much else except a drawer for clothing and a door leading to the showers. I guess it wasn't bad for a space-station, at least.

"So, tell me about yourself Dion."

"Uh-" I sat on the bed, adjusting my robe so it didn't fall open.

"Better yet, how about we play a game?"

"What sort of game?"

"Twenty questions. But- there's going to be a catch. If you ask me a question that is in my file, I take off a piece of clothing. If I ask you a question that's in your file, you take off a piece of clothing."

"Stripper-twenty questions?"

"Mhm."

"Why not strip chess or something a little more well-known?"

"Let it never be said I am not accommodating," He moved to the wall and ran a hand over the computer monitor, "Computer, access Daystar files, games, file twenty three. New game."

I blinked as suddenly a holographic projector turned on and set a display on the bed, a chessboard appeared.

Oh man, was he serious? I was wearing a robe and underwear--- this was going to be a short ass game. Suddenly I was self-conscious, wondering if this was one of the worst ideas I'd ever agreed to, or the single most idiotic idea I'd ever agreed to.