All the Earth junk that couldn’t be recycled or incinerated was dumped on the little planet that used to be- Pluto. Every citizen was mandated to save organic materials for the NCS, separate recyclables, and bag non-organic, non-reusable materials. More free will options thrown out the window- ‘going green’ was no longer a choice.

  My parents were long dead now and they had been barely in their thirties when I left. My current appearance was near identical to the eighteen year-old girl that had left home over a century ago (minus the artificial looking hair, loud makeup…and weapons). That’s what lots of cryo-sleep and space travel will do to a person. Not to mention that IGBA put operatives in the ARC (Age Reversal Crypt) after each mission. I still had some scruples with reverse aging, but damn I looked good. Back on point: My leaving was a stink.

  My parents…well, I’d said a mental goodbye to them in the 2080s- sure that they’d passed away after ninety years of living.

  Send-off

  Flight deck was pretty deserted when I arrived.

  I greeted my pilot with an unenthusiastic grunt. Rando was a jerk, but not half bad looking for a Grelig. He had the traditional dark green markings of the Grelig race, but he kept himself well groomed and the Grelig anatomy was relatively close to human. We’d actually been on a date. I thought it was going pretty well…until I caught a glimpse of him adding something to my Jupiter 6 cocktail.

  When he wasn’t looking, I’d switched our glasses. His taste buds were so dead from chain smoking hash that he couldn’t taste the difference. Boy was he surprised. I left him puke-ugly and passed out against the bar. I’d never confronted him. The pictures that ended up on the uni-net were consolation enough.

  Cross my fingers. I wasn’t the one who painted his face up like a Dennian prostitute and posed him that way…honest. I was a little miffed at the lack of send-off.

  IGBA was breaking a fundamental, although null in my case, rule and didn’t even care enough to give me a farewell back pat. I was sure Rando would oblige. I shook my head. Ugh.

  Just the thought of that grease-ball touching me gave me the heebie-jeebies. I took one last look at the flight deck and sighed. G et in the damn craft. I mentally shouted at myself to quit lollygagging.

  I’d been dealt a crappy hand. If I wasn’t going to fold, may as well go all in. In a matter of minutes, I’d stowed my gear and situated myself against the cushy wall of the sleep pod. I belted myself and yanked downwards on the harness straps until they were snug.

  I watched Rando set the time link for cryo-sleep. Earth was a long way off. I was going to be drop-dead gorgeous after so much beauty sleep. I shifted my legs a bit as the pod rose slightly off the ground and began to tilt backwards. When I was horizontal, the memory foam beneath me rose slightly until every part of my body was cushioned.

  I wouldn’t dream which would be nice for a change. I couldn’t be sure, but as the cryo-haze settled over my mind, I could swear I saw Rando making the type of gesture that earned him the nickname ‘Raunchy Rando.’

  Consulate Red Mountain

  I awoke quickly, fully alert with no memory fog.

  The cryogenic travel pods had recently been further improved to minimalize the after-effects of long distance travel. Rando was already awake and fiddling with the control panel.

  When my pod was upright and opened, I stepped out and enjoyed a full body stretched.

  “Ugh.” I groaned when my spine cracked several times. Despite the cushioning, somehow I always ended up kinky. At least my brain felt rested and ready to go.

  “We’re entering the atmosphere now and will begin docking above planet at IGBA consulate Red Mountain in 25 minutes.” My head turned and I watched Rando pressing a number sequence into the command panel. The viewing port opened to reveal a picture that differed greatly from my memory. Earth’s greenery had been in decline when I departed a decade ago, but now seemed to be making quite the comeback. From a high space aerial view, I saw what the century-old history books described as the green, blue planet of the MWGS (Milky Way Galaxy Sector).

  Entrance was a speedy affair, our silica-coated, platinum and ceramic hybrid shell making short work of the atmospheric resistance. Before long, our craft began to quickly descend towards a helipad. IGBA consulate Red Mountain was suspended 3000 meters above the planet’s surface and measured 20 acres square, was home to 5000 IGBA employees and work home for an additional 800 contractors. It was massive and a feat of engineering.

  The auto-piloted landing was flawless. I barely felt the ground gear touch down and adjust the craft to exit-height. It would be another few minutes before our cabin equalized and we were able to exit. I stretched again and decided a quick phase shower wouldn’t be a bad idea. I stripped my clothing off and tossed it into a decontamination unit, pressing ‘quick tide’ before walking into the small, confined shower space. Just like my bunk room, sensors picked up my presence and measured my weight and height. Always pissed me off when a robotic voice suggested I lose several kilograms of mass deposit in a certain pants-stretching region below my back. My ass fat was just fine, thank you Mr. tactless robot man.

  The booth lit up and I felt the warm, cleansing heat that told me I was soon to be dead-cell free and odorless. One thing I was going to buy while on Earth- a decent bottle of perfume. Every scent I’d sprayed at the GRUP consumer central mall smelled horrific. Of course, there wasn’t a large market for the human desire to smell dainty and floral. I’d learned from my many encounters with different species- Meckdar, Tulaté, Digha-Waa- that natural musk was the preferred eau de toilette of the galaxy.

  I put on my newly fresh clothes and ran my fingers thru my shoulder length black hair. I clipped my communicator back on. I pressed a button and a small rod ejected out of the communicator. Looking in the mirror, I held the rod to the corner of my right eyelid and said “eye shadow, green.” I swiped the rod across my lid and was pleased with the grass-green shade that now complimented my natural eye color. I mimicked the motion and speech to shade my left lid. A few more words and motions and my face was diva perfect.

  When the door opened, there was no inward swoosh of air. Our craft had been too perfectly equalized, had prepared us too well for our new environment. While in cryo-sleep, our bodies had been slowly acclimating to earth. Our bodies were ready for the gravity, our internal clocks were ready for the time changes; even our bodies had been slowly warmed to acclimate our skin and glands to tolerate the heat of an Alabama summer.

  All of these accommodations should have made stepping onto earthen ground feel perfectly normal. Of course, none of the physical acclimations assisted the emotional issues boiling below my very calm, very cool knife-toting surface.

  It was a coincidental thing that the I.G.B.A., NAC consulate would be located in my birth state. Well, above my birth state. Coincidence or not, it was still a kick in the crotch. Thank the O GOD that Birmingham was a long way from Andalusia.

  Rando gave me a fare-the-well wave and one of his looks that said ‘how ’bout a pat on the butt for good measure?’ And I gave him a ’try it and you’ll lose an arm’ look in reply. I watched Rando retreat into an IGBA office. I sincerely disliked the jerk, but I would be very happy to see him again- if seeing him meant going back to GRUP and getting the hell off Earth.

  No one met me on the helipad. No send-off on GRUP, now no ‘hello, how are ya?’ on Earth. I was pretty popular.

  I didn’t know which direction to walk in, but I wasn’t following Rando- one awkward goodbye was enough. I scanned the area, my eyes taking in several buildings. They looked a bit antiquated, but they were architecturally in line with most IGBA designs. At some point a senior IGBA researcher had unearthed an archive bead containing a photo of the Sydney (anti-GRUP Earth continent: Australia) Opera house.

  Pretty soon, all newly constructed buildings were that basic design. They varied in color and slightly in shape, but one could always distinguish an IGBA building from the sea of corporate and bland Earth buildings that were produced in bulk during the minimalist resurgence of the 3030’s.

  The buildings were color coded. Gunmetal gray usually meant living quarters, reddish-brown usually meant equipment storage, and cobalt blue buildings were always the operations centers. I strode toward the beckoning blue building and sucked in hot air, filling my lungs and warming my core unpleasantly. To me, the IGBA buildings always looked like half an artichoke- The building peaks like stacked, stiff leaves. Yum. Artichokes. I realized I wasn’t just looking forward to the perfume.

  Earth food was going to be a pleasant change. That was one tidbit of happiness I’d gleaned from the endless data on the ‘new’ Earth I was returning to. Nutrient cubes were available, but not widely accepted as core food supplements. I could still walk into a NAC town, find a diner and order a double-stacked, cheese burger. Granted the patty would be a buffalo clone product and fat-free. Cows were extinct.

  Burgers, meatballs, and sundry other ‘beef’ dishes existed thanks to a disease free male Buffalo preserved prior to the devastating Mad Cow strain V outbreak of 3019. So much time. So many changes.

  At least I didn’t have to worry about running into old ’friends.’ Friendship was overrated. My longest standing relationship was probably with Pretty and I’d just as soon handcuff him as talk to him.

  I hesitated only for an instant before yanking the windowless door open. I was blasted by icy air; my skin tingled with the chill. Before my eyes could sufficiently adjust to the artificial lighting, I was accosted by a rather large man. I didn’t like to be surprised or man handled. This stranger was pressing his luck and quickly rising on my shit list.

  “Want to get out of my personal space bub?”

  I looked up at his face. I’d planned on being haughty and entitled. But then I focused on him. Human and good-looking. Damn. Guess I’d opt for the less bitchy route. His irises were so dark that it was difficult to distinguish pupil. His lashes were girl long. His bronze hair was cropped short against his head. Cute could get you everywhere.

  “Want to show me your papers, Ms.?” Yum.

  Nice voice too.

  I colored a bit. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts; I’d forgotten to have my bounty shield clipped to the lapel of my uniform. I huffed, a little irritated at myself. I bent and yanked my badge and folded mission papers out of the left leg pocket of my jumpsuit. I mumbled a half-hearted apology. I didn’t meet his eyes, not wanting him to catch me appreciating his features a little too much. I wasn’t a very subtle person. When I liked something, I was pretty obvious about it.

  When I disliked something…well, I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m a bit lacking in the friendship department.

  I continued to avert my eyes as ’tall guy’ read over my paperwork and scanned my badge into a computer. One little scan and the abridged history of me would pull up in a 120 k-bit IGBA file. Having verified my mission clearance and parameters, ’tall guy’ handed back my stuff.

  “Alright Bounty G.M. You have a meeting tomorrow morning, but for now you can head to the residential building. Your room is…” He glanced back at the computer screen “…E4-9.” I turned to leave.

  “Wait, where’s the meeting?” I always forgot some itsy-bitsy, unimportant detail.

  “This building. S1-1.”

  “Time?”

  “0700.”

  “And I was hoping to sleep in.”

  “Sleep in?” ’Tall guy’ chuckled. “I don’t know what IGBA branch you’re from, but the words ‘sleep’ and ‘in’ have never been used consecutively here. We wake, we work and we’re lucky if we fall asleep before we have to wake again.”

  I smiled ruefully at him. “You got a name?

  I’d like to mentally refer to you as something other than ’tall guy’.” I watched as he looked down at his decidedly tall frame and grimaced.

  “Willard Short.” His voice was almost apologetic. My grin was full blown, all-teeth-showing happy.

  “I like that. See you later Willy.” I’d momentarily debated calling him Mr. Short-having already teased him about his height. I reneged on the idea. Besides, it was quite a bit more fun to call him by his first name when he was undoubtedly waiting for me to jab at the contradiction that was his physique versus the inadequacy of the last name ‘Short.’ I walked out of the building, back into the world…my world. I strode purposely towards the gray building.

  I found E4-9 with little trouble. All IGBA residential units were similar in layout. The room was a mirror image of my bunk back on GRUP. It felt so familiar that I threw my duffel towards the back left corner, expecting the mattress to cushion its fall. The heavy bag hit the single-person dining table instead.

  I glanced at the bag, puzzled only for an instant before realizing my mistake. I left it. I’d move it later- one more opportunity to ignore the reality of where I was. I wanted to clean up, with real water. It was amazing. I’d only been in the heat for minutes, but my skin felt grimy.

  I opened the frosted glass door to the small water closet and was thrilled to see a silver showerhead. I pulled the faucet handle downwards, twisting it left and right until the water was warm, but not hot. I unzipped my uniform, pulled my arms out, and shrugged it off my shoulders. The cobalt material pooled around my feet and I bent down and untied my boots. I lifted my feet free of both jumper and shoes simultaneously, peeled my socks off and headed for my first real shower in more than 150 years.

  The water felt good. I stood in the wet warmth for a long time. The sensation of clean wetness against my body brought a literal waterfall of emotions. I cried for my parents, high school, even for my stupid ex-boyfriend, Guy. Mostly, I cried for the life I might have had.

  When I finally turned off the water and stepped out of the stall, I was returned to my normal, messy, Inter-Galactic Bounty Hunter and bad-ass self. What kind of life was I crying for anyways? I might have gotten married, had kids, and maybe had a career.

  Anyway you cut the cake, if I’d stayed on this blue-green blip of a planet, I’d be dead and decayed by now- food meal for the NCS.

  Devoured

  My stomach grumbled.

  I had a couple of cubes in my duffel, but who the heck wants quick-dissolve dissatisfaction when there’s real food to satiate hunger. I searched the small bunk room for an area information bead, but came up empty handed.

  Surprised, I realized that there wasn’t an info-link mounted next to the door either.

  “Huh” I muttered, a bit confused. Good thing I now knew one person to harass for information. I glanced at my IGBA uniform, but opted for a pair of cargo shorts and a white tank instead.

  Lucky me. Willard was still at his post.

  “Hiya Willy.” He’d turned in my direction before I’d spoken- the influx of hot air thru the open door gave me away.

  “Bounty G.M. Can I help you?”

  “Call me G. And yes, you can. I’m hungry and…” he interrupted me

  “And you’ve lived off nutrient cubes for over a century and a half.” He paused. “Call me Will.

  Please. I’m not fond of Willard or Willy.” The ‘please’ sounded like an afterthought, but I’d bite.

  “That and the occasional soup kitchen fare. I tried to avoid the nights when Meckdars ran the menu.” I cocked my head and grimaced. “Their taste buds are—different than most species.”

  “Dead skin doesn’t appeal to you?”

  “Maybe with ketchup.” Thinking about ketchup made my stomach grumble audibly. Will chuckled.

  Still standing behind the security desk, Will untangled a cord from around his neck and inserted the attached info bead into one of several slots adjacent to the main info link.

  Above the desk a holo-screen came to life. I could see the basic layout of the city below. Will’s index finger tapped a map key and several dozen buildings on the city layout flared to yellow life. Our current location blinked red.

  “I’m partial to Donovan & O’Malley’s Irish Pub on 2nd, but you might like Route 66 Soda Shoppe on the corner of Tribeca Ave. and South Main.” Will pointed at each location on the map.

  When his finger came away, the buildings had changed from yellow to blue. “The Soda Shoppe has killer half pound buffalo burgers and steak fries.”

  “I was sold at half pound.”

  I studied the map briefly, but ended up scanning the address into my info chip. Why try to remember directions when I could just have a robotic voice lead the way? On second thought, 50 why leave any useful information behind. I asked Will if I could borrow his bead. I unpinned my identification badge and used the pin point to activate an info transfer. A male, micro usb popped out of Will’s bead and I inserted it into my info bead’s slot.

  The transfer was quick. I threw a ’thank you’ behind me as I walked out of the building and towards the teleport room. Actually, it wasn’t so much a room as a phone booth with an accordion door. The booth tela-linked with a corresponding booth at ground level. I walked in, scanned my ID bracelet and dematerialized.

  It was always the strangest sensation to feel oneself broken apart and reassembled. It all felt very Star Trek.

  The Soda Shoppe wasn’t a long way from the tela-booth. I strolled along with real interest, staring into the various shop windows. The Earth felt like a very different place. It didn’t feel like home anymore. I was a tourist, my blood as foreign as the alien I now hunted.

  I ignored the stares and murmurs as the meat juices dripped down my chin and landed on my tank. The gray color did little to hide the large food stains that now decorated my tank. When the waiter had placed the burger in front of me, I’d been assailed by the smell of real meat. The grill marks weren’t synthetic; the patty wasn’t soy. I was in heaven. As much as I wanted to smother the burger with ketchup and mustard, I didn’t. I wanted to taste the meat in all its glory.

  The golden, crispy fries were another story. I used an entire bottle of ketchup eating them and was tempted to ask the waiter for more. But I didn’t. I wasn’t a complete gluttonous slob.

 

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