Excerpt: Rough Cargo

His biceps tightened as he pulled on the synthetic straps. The movement tightened the lines, securing the cargo. He leaned back, running his fingers through his shoulder length red hair and wiping it away from his cloudy forehead. He shook his hair out, it tossed about his wide shoulders, bright red against the tight grey short-sleeved shirt he wore. His skin was spacer pale, the kind that showed he saw little sunlight except through a vision window. He even held himself like a spacer, somewhat expectant while still being completely relaxed, as though he expected a klaxon siren to alarm at any minute or then again maybe not.

“Big box, isn't it?” Gee came around from behind, her tight blue coveralls squeezed in bits of her that really wanted to be let out. Her short black hair frizzed in a curly mop, with one strand that always wanted to cover her right eye. Gee, on the other hand, had a fine and dark tan giving her colour and vibrancy.

“Astute.”

She placed her hand along the length and then knocked several times. It made a solid thunk thunk. “Pretty solid. Clearly.”

“Clearly, I hired you for your brains.”

“Psh.” She smiled at him. “Is that why you tied it down?”

He did not respond, he just moved onto the next strap.

When she received no response she asked, “Styxen?”

“During long-haul flights I lower the gravity in here to conserve energy. The cargo box takes up most of the hold but not enough. It will jostle and likely destroy whatever precious cargo is inside not to mention my ship. Having several tons of 'big box' floating around in the cargo bay is more dangerous than even your bright intelligence.”

“No need to be nasty.” She smiled despite the attempt at a sting and she leaned up against the cargo, crossing her arms underneath her ample chest. “So what's inside?”

Styxen shrugged and walked past her to check another strap for tightness.

“You don't know?” She turned around to run her hands down the box sides and then pressed her ear against it. “Something this big it's gotta be something important.”

“Unlikely.” He pulled at the strap, tightening the line. His muscles bulged in the effort.

“What's inside? Is it live cargo? Something this big could hold that.” She pursed her lips when he didn't respond and she slammed her fist against the side.

He looked up at her with dangerous eyes. “You dent it and you'll take it out of your pay.”

“Seriously though. What do you think is in it?”

“I don't get paid to find out. I get paid to deliver it.”

She looked at the manifest near the access door to the crate. Its computer readout blinked with the current time, time of estimated arrival and location for delivery. She whistled. “Long-haul is right. This is clear across the galaxy. That must be why you hired me to cook cause you sure aren't using me for anything else.” She walked past him and slapped his ass, then scooted away laughing her braying laugh. She ran the remainder of the cargo hold and hit the bifold door. It opened.

He did not even bother to look up. In a bored voice he spoke loudly to say, “I will go over this one more time! I don't find you attractive!”

She popped her head back out the door just before it closed. “Ditto! You're too redhead for my tastes!” She popped in as the door closed and he was left alone in the cargo hold.

“Little blessings.” He stepped to the next strap and tightened it, grunting as he pulled the straps tight. After a thorough inspection of the cargo, he put his hand on the side of it. His nostrils flared and he closed his eyes crumpling a little at the knees. His hand slapped against the side of the cargo and he shook his head. His pupils were wide and he shook his head again.

“What the hell woman? Did you spike my coffee?” He strode out of the bay, slamming his fist against the button that opened the bifold doors. A few minutes later, all lights dropped down in the cargo hold and a slight groaning sound was the only alert that the gravity level had changed in the hold.

The manifest on the large cargo in the middle blinked a few times and the estimated time of arrival adjusted itself according to the coordinates of the ship. A set of words appeared on the readout below, “Dinner served.”