Seas of Green

Cycles Go ‘Round [Chapter 1]

Waxn was a pleasant little moon in the Maramala system, with solar-wind carved cliffs and refreshing chlorine seas, all in one location none too far from several busier systems in the area. To think— for so long, it had barely seen a single foot or other appendage upon its porous, rocky surface— but that was all going to change.

Skwe’ep and their team had been there for what you might call a month, taking in the sights. Well, officially, they were surveying and gathering information and plotting the land in preparation for getting the necessary permits. Yes, even in those secluded areas of the galaxy, one must cut through the red tape. Personally, I was in no position to argue that it wasn’t necessary.

The wide and soggy gastropodous fellow may have glanced up to the sky to see the descent of a small ship, or maybe just its reentry trail, through the thin and acrid atmosphere of the moon. He was not surprised when, not long after, the hum of a hoverbike came his way, the dainty vehicle carrying a suited individual of the four-limbed variety.

No doubt the other workers came to see what the visitor was there for, but the boss swiftly sent them back to toiling while the situation was to be dealt with. Skwe’ep was present under the tent by the worker’s ship there, sticky arms folded in a form to hopefully suggest his lack of patience at that time.

The biped parked and stepped off the hoverbike not far from the camp and hoofed it the rest of the way. Whatever she was there for, the screen of her computer tablet was likely more interesting or important, seeing as how her face was buried into it. When she was close enough for her environmental suit’s speaker to reach the auditory sensors belonging to the slug creature, she announced why she was there. The translator on the tablet spit out a handful of mostly complete phrases, but Skwe’ep, valuing the precious time, stepped in first.

“Please excuse me, I speak common. Can I help you?”

For the first time, the glare of the computer screen disappeared from the visor. Skwe’ep was able to make out the thin, pale face behind the glass. “A Terran, is it,” the slug creature said, the hope of a pleasant, short interaction fading away.

“Yes, sir,” the suited woman said, pepping up. “I’m a representative from Cycles Go ’Round,”

“Stop right there,” Skwe’ep interjected again. “Not sir. We don’t have your… men and women like the species you’re used to, you know. It would help you to know that sort of detail before trying to go around soliciting on far-off planetoids.”

The young woman’s face again returned to the safety of her tablet screen. “Ah, yes, that is so,” she said with a voice that cut in and out of the suit’s communicator system.

Skwe’ep stared at the hoverbike, settled against the ground, then back to the path across the landscape and likely about through the rough hills even further away. “But you… you’ve come a long way, haven’t you? I must apologize, the work here is getting to me. I’ll at least hear you out.”

The woman perked up once again. “Well, again— wait— yes, my name is Anna, and I am with Cycles Go ’Round. Perhaps you have heard of us?”

“…no.”

“Oh. Well, allow me to tell you about what we do,” she proposed, stuffing the tablet by her side and standing tall. “You see, Cycles Go ’Round is a galactic firm providing settlement insurance for all prospective colonists, terraformers, shippers, and the like. Our records indicate that this Moon here, Waxn, has recently been re-zoned for durable settlement by a private corporation under your planet’s territorial claim. Can I assume that you are the boss here, Mr.— err. I mean…”

Through the clear mask, Skwe’ep could see Anna’s teeth grit hard, lips twitching, the sound of her breath suddenly stopping. Skwe’ep slithered around and faced away from the rep. “Just call me Skwe’ep. And yes, I am the boss.”

“Excellent,” Anna composed herself. “Well, it seems to me like you are eager to settle here, as we guessed… determined! Already a crew here and all. May I inquire about the nature of the project here?”

“A resort!” Skwe’ep said with a flourish, brandishing their frontal appendages out toward the blue-green ocean of liquid chlorine, gently lapping at the beach down from the outcropping. “Are you perhaps aware that this moon has perfect weather— for our species at least, three-quarters of the time? Judging by that suit of yours, you personally might find it a bit cold, but for us, this is prime weather.”

Anna glanced down at the arm of her suit, displaying the environmental notes, including a temperature reading of -50 Celsius. She stepped up to join the slug creature closer to the outcropping over the beach. “A bit cold, yes. For the foreseeable future.”

Skwe’ep shifted their wide body back to face the Terran, appendages folded over one another. “What was it you were… telling me about? Insurance? I’m sure you’d be able to ‘foresee’ plenty that the average person would overlook. That’s how you make your money, am I right?”

Anna waved her tablet innocently in front of her. “I can promise you, first off, that Cycles Go ’Round is fully licensed under galactic laws and follows all treaties with territories in this sector. If you have any reservations, you are free to research us on the galaxy net, and read our reviews.”

“Unnecessary. Now, I do believe I have heard of businesses like yours,” the being slithered back in the direction of the work site, Anna following. “What is it that you think you could provide us here, for the… foreseeable future?”

Anna perked herself up, announcing with a practiced voice. “You see, this moon has several sister… neighbor moons about this planet here. The presence of multiple lunar satellites is well known to cause orbital fluctuations.”

“And that would lead to…?”

“In the case of this moon that we stand on, the tidally-locked face may change. And for you, that means exposing this beautiful chlorine sea to the light of this system’s sun more often, creating unpleasant gases and—“

Skwe’ep stood up and turned back to Anna. “You’re creating stories to scare me into buying your insurance. I’ve never heard of such nonsense. One credit to you is one too many, I know already.”

“My employers would urge you to look at the data, my good… being,” Anna said, ready to present out her tablet.

“I’m sure they would. And I understand you are just doing as told. But do you truly think we would take up residence here without doing our research?”

“Our research—“ The Terran exclaimed, excitement escaping her. “43 solar cycles ago, this very thing occurred.”

“Is that so?” Skwe’ep inched back around, eye stalks leaning Anna’s way. “Then what do you say to the fact that we have readings from over 50 solar cycles saying that nothing of that sort has happened?”

Anna waved her free hand in the air. “Oh, well, of course, that is if you go by the solar cycles of your home planet. I believe things on Slugma go much slower? My numbers here go off local cycles…”

“No, no, no,” Skwe’ep said with a moist chuckle and a wiggle of a frontal appendage. “You can’t take your words back now. Thank you for your offer, but we are not interested in purchasing any private insurance. Hah, and to dare to say that we go… slower… back at home. Take those two legs of yours and head somewhere else. If you don’t mind.”

Anna leaned her head down, breathing against her front visor. “Of course. Sorry for the intrusion. If you do have a change of heart— pericardium, the galaxy net has our contact info! That’s Cycle’s Go ’Round.”

---

With that, the tale of how I botched my first solo cold call comes to an end. As I got on my hoverbike, I’m sure the slug man or whatever didn’t even look back to ensure I would return to my ship safely. Somehow I felt bad that the nice resort eventually to be built here might one day be melted into sludge by rampant gaseous chlorine. When I realized that the last vacation I had gone on was back when I was still a kid, the guilt somehow managed to fade away.

The hoverbike folded back up nicely and was tucked into the storage compartment of the company ship, propped up and balanced there on the porous ground, ready to take me to my next destination. One of the dreams of a working person may be to have their own work craft, but I can assure you that it is not everything that it is choked up to be. Maybe if you were a slug alien who could squelch comfortably into a snug compartment while also enjoying the odor of a chlorine-enveloped environmental suit, but for a sensitive and bone-restrained human like myself, it is not quite as nice. Luckily, the amount of actual piloting I have to do is limited, as the automated flight systems kick in to make sure the company drones like myself are always punctual.

Speaking of being punctual, I definitely took time to prepare myself for what I might say to dispatch about the interaction down on the moon.

“This is Anna in Pod CGR 402, checking in for my next assignment.”

I assumed the dispatch workers inhabiting a space none too different than my own there in the little craft: a wall to the front, with one tiny window and the rest of the viewable area covered with screens listing every sort of metric. At least the flat cockpit seat-slash-bed was comfortable enough in zero G’s.

“Copy, Anna.” It was Grep, who I had come to know during my stint as a junior salesperson, albeit only by his voice. “How did it go down on Waxn?”

I sighed, making sure the sound wasn’t too obvious. “Not good. I told him everything he… it needed to hear. I guess I misspoke one too many times, though. Came off as a little unconvincing.”

“Don’t feel bad, that’s just how it goes sometimes with insurance sales. Folks paying for something they won’t use right away, or even at all.”

“I mean… yeah, but… building on a moon like that is just asking for it.”

“We can always send someone out when the skwak hits the inturbulator. The rate for high-risk property will cover it. Hey, just relax now. Fill out the report when you can.”

“Sure. Where next?”

“Oh, yeah. They want you back at the hub, actually. One standard hexturn from now.”

Six hours, I calculated in my head. Each time I blinked, it was harder and harder to get my eyes to open back up again. “Can I… request an extension?”

“Looks like… sorry, no can do.”

“So when you say relax and fill out the report at my leisure, you mean…”

“I know. Not my call, though. Sorry. I know your species needs its hibernation. Best I can tell you is that they have some nice coffee vending machines here. Quicker you get there…”

“Yeah, thanks. On my way. Over.”

“Over and Out.”

Next Chapter –>