by

Yanick Champoux (38%)

Lee Watts (18%)

Josip Nað (17%)

Michel Lacombe (16%)

Dorian (4%)

goldkngt55 (3%)

Andrew Avila (2%)

Marten (1%)

Oliver (1%)

Part 14

Yanick Champoux (11/11/2001)

Magdalena's hand moved to forehead. The greenish-white tone of her complexion was turning whitish-green. "Apologies? My... I never thought humility was a virtue accessible to the like of you."

Demuel bowed his head. "To get in someone's pants, one has to learn to kneel," he said, quoting the Secret Gospel.

Magdalena groaned. "I'm sick like a dog, you're holed like an Imperial budget, and still you go on. You never give it a rest, do you?"

Demuel shook his head. "Nope. I'm too far gone to know when to quit."

Magdalena would have sighed if her stomach's sudden impulse of dancing the calypso with her liver wouldn't have made her painfully wince. "Anyway," she managed to breath, "can you get out of my quarters...?"

"Our quarters, you mean?"

"The hell, the tall alien gave you your own quarters!"

"Yes, but they installed a second bunk here. Their visibly want us to stay together."

"And what would you have come with if there had been only one bed?"

"That they obviously want us to mate."

Magdalena, in usual circumstances, would have snapped a most devastating answer to that, but as she was busy convincing her lunch not to attempt a out-of-body experience, she remained silent. If groans and moans and whines could be considered silence, that is.

"You know," said Demuel, inspecting the walls, "this is the Fearless Baboon. For some reason, the Vau glued and fixed all those fake plastic thingies everywhere. Bad decoration sense? Tentative to impress us? Anyway, here's the data-socket. I think I will follow the advice of tall, dark and handsome and clear some memory." Whistling, he began to unbuckle his belt.

"What do you think you are doing ?" shrieked Magdalena.

Demuel rolled his eyes. "Accessing my spleen-jack," he said pulling a small output cable from the side of his belly. "What, you never saw one of these? Cheaper than the cortex model, and twice the capacity."

Magdalena closed her eyes. From the back of her mind she heard her old Amalthean teacher warning her class against the moral perils of blind dates. How right the old hag was, Magdalena mused. And holding this though, she passed out.