John turned his attention to the high tech computer in his room – the avatar program was loaded, and waiting to go. The screen superimposed a greyscale humanoid shape of indistinct gender on the screen. Although there were other options – several, in fact, he picked female because that’s how he truly felt, and the greyscale image reformed into a feminine shape. John sighed. If I do this, he thought, it makes it real. Once I see how I can look, I’ll want to have it. John knew himself… He had wanted this so hard, and for so long, he knew once he saw his true self, the need to become that person physically would soon be an obsession. John found he was a little bit scared too... scared of change, scared of staying the same, and scared of what people would think. In the end he gritted his teeth and continued. I need to do this, he thought. Fuck what other people think!

He worked at the avatar slowly, sculpting it piece by piece, slider by slider until it looked just right. The face took almost two hours to get just right – but by the end, John was satisfied with it. The image on the screen showed a blonde young woman, with hair down to her shoulders. She had a strong face that was handsome and attractive more than it was pretty, spattered with a few freckles here and there across her cheeks. Her eyes were bright purple, and instantly drew attention to themselves. It was striking, without being over the top or too pretty. John liked to think he wasn’t vain – but if you can look good, why not? Kind of like the girl next door, at least in his imagination.

The body was tall for some women, but not too tall – about 175cm in total, and about 66kg in weight. Slender, but curvy in the right places, and strong enough to perform her shipboard duties. John imagined himself as a woman of action – strong, but not muscle-bound, with a hint of definition to her arms and legs, stomach and abs. Athletic and fit, not a weightlifter. Finally, John gave his avatar average sized feet for a woman his age and build – he had heard from other ladies – especially his friend Katie – about how hard it was to find shoes and boots in the right size. No need to hinder myself from the start, he thought. Surprisingly, it took John almost as much time to perfect his avatar’s body as it did for its head – he waffled for quite a while over her build, her bust and her shape – and it took a long time to get which image worked better in his head. The final body shape had a definite touch of hourglass to it, but the bust was modest and not exaggerated, and neither were her other features. The final product looked pretty - beautiful even, especially with the proper clothes and cosmetics – but she wasn’t a fashion model or a movie star. Her striking purple eyes and her strong features radiated intelligence, capability and purpose, and to be honest, looked a little bit intimidating. The rest of her was distinctly feminine, without a hint of the masculinity he so desperately wanted rid of. She was perfect.

John stared at her for a long time, amazed. The avatar was so photo real, it looked like he could reach out and shake her hand. “Hello, beautiful.” He said to it, still unbelieving. “That’s me. That’s what I want.” He knew it was true the moment he said it, and he equally knew he would do whatever he could to accomplish it as soon as was humanly possible.

John hit save, and rubbed his forehead – somewhere between the avatar’s head and her body he’d been hit with a migraine that grew slowly, and wouldn’t go away. Now, it was receding somewhat, but it still ached and he felt cranky and tired. Maybe I should grab a few minutes rest? He wondered. He turned the computer off, and headed to his bunk.

He had just sat down on the bunk to get ready for a nap, when the ship’s intercom awoke and Bear’s voice emerged. “Attention crew. We are about to dock at Traltha Starport. Prepare for inspection. John, I have special instructions for you – I will see you as soon as we dock.”

John wasn’t sure what the inspection was, or how thorough, but imagined it was a simple customs inspection. It made sense, after all – we flew into Traltha’s system from somewhere else – who knows what we’re carrying? I wonder what the special instructions are that Bear has for me? I guess no rest for the wicked – or for me, either, he thought.

A few moments later, Bear buzzed his door. “You awake, John?”

“Yeah.” John replied. “Come in.”

Bear came into the room, and saw John on the edge of his bunk, rubbing his forehead. “Headache?”

“Yeah – it came on a while ago, but I was in the middle of something and didn’t want to stop. Do we have any painkillers?”

“Da. In Kitchen above sink. We need to talk.”

“Okay, go ahead Bear.”

“We found several trunks in Hyperion – personal possessions I think. One had your name on it. As far as I figure, they belonged to your crew and friends. They are yours now – and you will have to tell inspection team that, as well as fact that you gave us rights to cargo. Otherwise, today will be a bad day.”

John smiled. “Well, we don’t want that, do we Bear.”

“No.” Bear replied with a smile. “We don’t. Is there anything else I need to know before the inspection?”

“Da. Be polite. The Tralthans are a bit touchy and if you offend them it will cost us in fees and penalties.”

“No problem. Did the Hyperion make it to the wreckers?”

“Da. Drago says the credits have not been wired to our account yet, but day is young. We will have money soon… and maybe then you can get clothes instead of flight suit?”

John smiled and chuckled. “Yeah, I think I’d feel better in normal clothes too. Any chance I could get you or Drago to show me around the starport so I don’t get lost or ripped off trying to buy stuff?”

“Da, no problem my friend. I will take you. Drago has other business – and Hortencia is refilling supplies.”

“Thanks.”

Bear stood for a moment, watching John, as if assessing him, then motioned for him to come with him. “We need to be in cargo bay.”

John nodded, and followed Bear.

The inspection team turned out to be four individuals from the Tralthan port authority – a black man with blond hair and green eyes, two larger men with heavyset builds and brown hair, and a woman of middle age with black hair edging towards silver. The inspection team looked rather professional, if a bit brusque, and obviously wanted to get their job done and be gone.

The middle aged woman spoke first. “I am Adjutant Smith of the Traltha Port Authority. We have orders to search your vessel. Do you have anything to declare?”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Da.” Bear replied. “My crew and I were working on salvage operation past asteroid belt, and rescued this man, and much of his ships cargo. He has been in cryo-pods long time – very long time – and needs ID. Most of cargo is his, but he signed much of it over to us. Please look.”

Adjutant Smith had a bit of a pinched expression on her face as she turned to John. “Is this true, sir?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“State your name for the record, please, with birth date and planet and system of birth.” She responded.

“John Samuel Kerrigan, Feb 1st, 2098 AD, Earth, Sol System.” John replied, as neutrally as he could, hoping not to offend the surly customs official.

“That date doesn’t register with our system.” She said, almost triumphantly – like she had caught John in a lie.

Bear interrupted. “That is because he has been in Cryo long time. He was born just before first contact and rise of Solomani Empire. He survived this long in cryo – is damn miracle.”

Adjutant Smith thought a moment, and nodded. “It is very odd. You said you were getting him new ID?”

“Da.”

“Forward his new credentials to my office once you have them. If we have your permission, we’ll begin our inspection.” The adjutant didn’t look like she was looking forward to all the paperwork John’s mysterious survival would cause, but it did seem to catch her attention in a good way, rather than a bad one.

The inspection took about an hour – and the Tralthan inspectors were very thorough, but eventually, with no contraband to be found, they debarked the Fortune’s Favor, leaving the rest of the crew relieved and ready to relax.

Drago approached Bear and John – and this time he had a little friend with him! On his shoulder was a bronze colored dragonet, whose tail was wrapped lightly around Drago’s throat – probably to assist in balance. The little creature seemed to have a wingspan of about three feet or so, and was about that long with neck and tail included. It looked like a miniature dragon from ancient legends. As Drago approached, the creature – Herc, John thought he was called – stood up on his hind legs and started cooing at him with soft high noises… It sounded very cute, and Herc seemed very friendly.

“Herc, I presume?” John asked.

“In the flesh.” Drago announced. “I finally found him nesting amongst the converter coils in the engine room. He says he was cold.”

“He can talk?” John was mystified. Herc’s cooing didn’t really sound like a language.

“Yes and no.” Drago replied. “He’s a telepath and an empath – he can read emotions and communicate telepathically with me – but it doesn’t seem to work for other people. I think its because when he was born he bonded to me.”

“Cool. Is he friendly?” John asked.

“Usually. If he isn’t its because someone has him riled up. He’s a great judge of character.” Drago skritched Herc under the chin. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Yes you are!” Herc cooed his appreciating for the petting and fond words, and rubbed his head and neck against Drago’s face.

John held out his hand towards Herc, and said “Hi, Herc. Can we be friends?”

“Cooo!” Herc rubbed his head across John’s hand, and a slender tongue snuck out and licked one of his fingers.

Drago smiled. “I think that means yes, John. He likes you. He usually doesn’t taste people he meets for the first time.”

“That’s a sign of affection, I mean – the tasting?” John asked.

“Yeah – half the time it’s a kiss, the other half he’s tasting you – feeling your emotions and the way they taste. He likes you.”

“Neat. Nice to meet you Herc.” John stated.

“Cooo!”

“Da, enough already,” Bear interjected, breaking up Herc and John’s little love-fest. “I need John to come with me to Imperial Government Office. He needs ID – and if we don’t get ID, scary government lady will make much trouble for us.”

Drago laughed. “Okay – go ahead! I’ll see you later, John.”

“Bye!” After saying goodbye, I followed Bear down the ramp off the ship and across the starport. To say the starport was something new was an understatement! There were at least three other starships parked at the Traltha downport (which is a fancy way of saying a starport on a planet, not in orbit), and cargo droids were offloading and loading packing containers of cargo from hither and yon. The place looked busy, but Bear threaded his way through the many people and distractions with ease, slowing his pace only to allow John catch up with him after his rubbernecking.

* * *

John walked out of the Imperial Census office with Bear about two hours later, holding a shiny new holographic card that was his new Imperial ID Card. It had a copy of his fingerprints, genetic code, and facts about his birth date and place of origin. It also had a pretty cool 3D hologram projector that showed an image of his head and torso. Bear said the ID cards were virtually impossible to counterfeit without inside help. Convincing the bureaucrat that he was over 3000 years old and from pre-first contact Terra had taken Bear signing an affidavit, John signing the same, and the complete ships logs of the Hyperion and the Fortune’s Favor for the last 72 hours. What a fucking mess, he thought. At least it’s over.

“What now, Bear?”

“I think you might want clothes.”

“Small problem – no money.” John replied.

“I will pay. I’ll take it out of your share of Hyperion.” Bear answered, and pointed towards a shop that seemed to sell clothing – a mix of men and womens clothes, along with some clothes for children. “Go buy something that fits – a few outfits. I will pay, and we will go back to ship and split up money.”

“What money do we have, Bear? The money from the Hyperion, right?”

“Da, plus we need to hire a broker to sell cargo – the supplies you signed over to us – to see if we can make profit. That way, mortgage gets paid on my ship.”

“Does no one on the ship know how to buy and sell cargo?” John asked.

“No. I mean, we can muddle through – but we aren’t professionals, and probably lose money we could have otherwise kept. Professional broker costs some cash, but helps us make money in the end.” Bear didn’t seem satisfied with his answer much either, but it also looked like he didn’t really have any better options.

“Can we buy a training sim too?” John asked, sensing an opportunity and a way to make himself invaluable to the crew.

“Da. If you don’t take all day.” Bear replied, smiling. “Go. Get clothes.”

John went over to the store to buy clothes – as few as he could realistically get away with – after all, if he could afford any biosculpt, he wouldn’t be needing his boy clothes much longer… and he’d be buying a whole new wardrobe. Idly, he wondered if he’d be more successful buying his female wardrobe alone, or with Hortencia Addams. He chuckled. She’d probably dress me like a goth if I was lucky, and a vampire if I wasn’t, he thought. Maybe I’ll do it on my own. He took his time and picked out high quality items that would last and look good. Picking out three outfits wasn’t too hard – proper slacks or jeans, shirts and vests, jackets, boots, shoes and other accoutrements. He also grabbed a few pairs of boxers and T-shirts he could use as pajamas, and signalled for Bear to come over and pay. The bill came to about 100 credits.

I guess a credit is like five bucks back on Earth, John thought. Not bad… So 80,000 credits for the Hyperion is about $400,000. Nice.

“You ready to go?” Bear asked. He didn’t look bored – simply a bit tired. John wondered how long he and Drago and Hortencia had been up without sleep.

“Yup.” John replied.

“Good. Next stop, book store.”

“You buy sims at a bookstore?” John asked.

“Da. Games at game store, training sims at Bookstore or College.”

“Huh.” John simply filed that bit of information away, and followed Bear.

Once at the bookstore, John headed inside with Bear and asked a clerk for some help. A few minutes later, John walked out 700 credits in hock to Bear for a training Sim on learning how to buy and sell cargo with Interstellar travel – a specially designed training course for entrepreneurs working with small cargo holds and small vessels. Combined with the 100 credits for clothing, he owed Bear 800 credits – or close to four thousand Earth dollars.

I hope my share of the cargo and ship is enough to cover the bills I’ve rung up, he thought. “Thanks for the help, Bear.”

“No problem, John. If you can sell cargo in a few weeks, we save money on broker and have good reason to keep you around. Good thinking.”

John hoped it was.

They headed back to the ship.