By the time John and Bear got back to the ship, Hortencia had returned as well, and was restocking the pre prepared dinners in the galley, along with some fresh fruits and vegetables. Drago was sitting in front of the Vid screen in the common room playing a fantasy sim where he was riding a dragon in mid-flight, breathing fire at other dragon riders. It looked kinda cool to John – and he made a note to ask Drago what game he had been playing, later.

“Hey! You’re back!” Hortencia bubbled. “How did getting the ID go?”

“It was like pulling teeth.” Bear replied. “I needed ships logs, Hyperion’s ships logs, and tons of paperwork. But now, is done. John is now person.”

“Yay?!” John replied, a little unsure of what to say. He knew bureaucracies – and knew Bear was right – without ID he wasn’t a legal person – he was an illegal alien. The thought of himself being an alien, amongst all these other people who had only barely heard of Earth made him chuckle.

“Now what?” Hortencia asked.

“We sell cargo, pay mortgage, and split money.” Bear replied. “Last time we were here, it took three days to find buyer for cargo, so we might as well get settled to wait. John may be solving our problem soon, if lucky.”

“Oh really?” Drago asked. “How?”

“I borrowed some cash and bought a course on Interstellar Trade for small entrepreneurs. Maybe I can be the Fortune Favor’s merchant?” John replied.

“Great idea, John! It could save us time and money – which is helpful. Good luck.” Drago turned his attention to Bear. “We still using Hsien?”

“Da. Rudy Hsien is broker who gives us good deals.” Bear told John. “He will sell our cargo.”

John nodded. “Then does anyone mind if I go get changed and cleaned up? I feel dirty as hell after wearing this suit for the last 3000 plus years and could really use a shower.”

No one seemed to mind, so John headed back to his cabin, and stripped the flight suit he wore on the Hyperion off. It was sweaty and smelled, and as he emerged from it it felt like he was a sausage shedding its casing somehow. It felt good to be naked and free from its confines, even if he felt awkward and odd naked.

“I have got to do something about this body.” He muttered to himself. I should take Hortencia and Drago’s advice and search the ships computer for more information, he thought. Prices, times, places biosculpt can be done. What… tech level I think Hortencia called it? Its time I did something about this. He paused, and couldn’t help notice how sticky and gross he felt. The shower couldn’t wait anymore.

The Hyperion, with its artificial gravity, had required sponge baths, but with the gravity plating aboard the Fortune’s Favor, an Earth-normal gravity was on full time, allowing for the luxury of a normal water-based showed. He turned the water on, and waited a moment until he could adjust it to the proper temperature. Then, once it was ready, he stepped inside.

The hot water sluiced over him, and he groaned at how good it felt. His brown hair was wet immediately, but it was still tied back out of his face, which he liked. He let the water wash over him a moment, and felt a tension in his neck and shoulders he hadn’t really been aware of slowly leach out of him. For the first time in a long time, he began to relax. After a few minutes of soaking, he got down to the business of washing, and cleaned himself up as best he could. I wonder what showering will be like once I get biosculpt, he asked himself. I bet it’ll be a lot more fun. He grinned at the idea, but set it aside. Playing with himself in the shower would have to wait, at least until he had the right plumbing.

As the shower ended, a hot, warm wind blew in the shower cubicle, and over the course of a few minutes, blew him dry. It was odd – and to John’s earthly memories, seemed a lot like standing under one of those ubiquitous bathroom dryers people used to dry their hands when going to public bathrooms. It was kind of decadent and pleasant, but odd in the extreme.

A few minutes later, John stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed one of the sets of clothes he had purchased; it resembled a pair of black jeans, with socks and nice looking leather shoes, a light T-shirt, with a navy blue vest on top, and a light grey jacket should it get too chilly – which wasn’t likely on Traltha, a desert world. He looked presentable, and for the first time since he had been woken up from Cryo, he felt clean and in control. It was a good feeling, and one he liked.

He left his cabin to see what the others were up to, and found Herc outside his door, sleeping on the floor. “Hey, Herc? You sure you want to sleep there, buddy?” John bent over to gently brush Herc with his fingers.

Herc looked up and craned his neck. “Cooo!” The little dragon stood up, and reached out his arms, as if begging to be picked up. It was so adorable that John couldn’t resist, and gathered the little dragon into his arms.

“Where’s your daddy?” he asked Herc.

“Cooo!” Herc pointed towards Drago’s room, which was marked ‘locked’.

John thought of going over to the door and knocking – but at the last moment, had second thoughts. Drago and Herc seemed glued to each other at the waist – so Herc wouldn’t be kicked out of the room unless… He took a moment and looked for Hortencia, and couldn’t find her or Drago in the common room, or her room. “I think its just you and me, buddy.” John muttered to Herc. “Cause there’s no way in hell I’m barging into Drago’s room if he’s in there with Hortencia. She can be pretty scary.”

“Da. I call her Baba Roga.” Bear said from behind him. “She is little witch. When you left, she and Drago went to room. Is best if we leave them alone. Trust me.”

John nodded, not needing to be told twice. “So what’s up?”

Bear thought a moment. “I am going to bar to look for work. You can come, if you want. They have decent food, if you are tired of meals on ship.”

“Why the hell not?” John replied. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The bar – a seedy starport bar called ‘Drinks, Food, Cheap’ – was nestled between a gun shop that catered to spacers, and purportedly had higher tech weapons than the rest of Traltha, which was probably true, and a parts shop that stocked common replacement parts for starships. Inside the bar, the patrons were equally seedy in some ways – a lot of hardscrabble, down on their luck spacers who were barely making payments on their ships. Bear and his crew would fit right in. Bear and John had seated themselves at a corner booth where Bear could see the exit, and where John could watch the other direction.

John couldn’t help but seeing Bear’s eyes scan the room for danger, and noticed the lump of a handgun concealed under his jacket. “Expecting trouble?” John asked.

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“No, but it pays to be careful.” Bear replied.

“Are we meeting anyone in particular?” John asked.

“No. We are waiting for job. This bar has reputation of place to go if you want to hire someone for something maybe illegal. It is jobs like this that help us pay bills.”

“Sounds dangerous. You ever been arrested?”

“No. Not yet. Sometimes, is dangerous – but it keeps us paid and on our toes. Maybe if you get good at selling cargo, we can leave jobs like this behind and have less risk? Is worth a shot, I think.”

“So you don’t want to be doing sketchy jobs?” John asked.

“Don’t get me wrong, sometimes they are fun – but I am scared one day we push our luck too often, and maybe lose ship, and go to jail. I don’t want to lose the ship. To me, it means freedom.” Bear looked thoughtful and continued musing. “If we don’t get jobs, we don’t get paid – and if my mortgage not paid, then I lose ship. If I lose my ship, I lose everything. That is why we take these jobs.”

John could understand that. To him the Hyperion meant escape from an overcrowded Earth and a chance for a new life. It wasn’t inconceivable that to Bear, the Fortune’s Favor meant freedom – freedom to travel, explore wherever he might set course for. John suspected the only thing in the universe that scared Bear was a cage. Bear just didn’t understand he was trapped by poverty and circumstance, just like John had been on old Earth. Really, they were kindred spirits, John thought. Both of us yearn for freedom.

Their silence was broken by the sound of a waitress arriving. She was tall – close to 175cm, and well built for working in a seedy place like this. She was cute too, and had curly brunette hair, light brown skin, and a red and white checked shirt and red skirt that complemented her skin tone. John noticed she had brown eyes that looked a little desperate, a little sad. Her shoes were sensible enough to be rather unremarkable.

“Can I help you gents?” The waitress asked politely. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Da. I will have a pitcher of beer, and Shrrk steak. Medium rare.” Bear obviously knew what he liked.

“I’d like a minute to look at your menu, please.” John replied.

“No worries.” She responded. “You’re pretty polite for a place like this, mister.”

“I guess I am.” John confessed. “I’ll try to blend in a bit more.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a smile. “It’s a nice change from the people I usually deal with. I’m Jaseera.”

“Hi, Jaseera. I’m John – and this is Bear.”

The waitress nodded. “I’ll give you gents a few minutes to look the menu over.” At that, Jaseera left and began tending to other tables.

“I guess I don’t fit the image of desperate spacer, do I Bear?” John asked.

“No, not really.” Bear answered. “You seem like you are waiting for an opportunity to rise above. I am hoping if you do, you take us with you.”

John smiled to himself, wondering if Bear was right. “Why is the menu written in English?” he asked Bear. “If there are tens of thousands of planets, all with different cultures, how come there aren’t more languages?”

Bear smirked. “There are lots of languages, but remember, the Solomani Empire was settled by humans from Earth. At that time, most spacefarers used English because English was language of science on Earth at time. It became default language people use when travelling from planet to planet – a trade tongue. We call it Standard or Galactic Standard. Some planets speak nothing but Standard, but others have half dozen languages. My world speaks something we call Slavic. I learned Standard in grade school growing up. As you may guess, it is not my first language.”

“Well, maybe – I happen to like your accent, Bear. It reminds me of home.” John wondered how Bear would take the compliment, and wondered himself why he gave it. Bear was cute enough in his own way, but John didn’t think he held any attraction for the big guy – did he? He couldn’t decide – and in the end, it didn’t matter. John had never engaged in anything sexual before now because of his dysphoria and general discomfort with his body – and he wasn’t about to start now. It’s a non-issue, he tried telling himself.

Bear smiled sadly. “I am glad. You remind me of some friends I met in Scout service – the ones who succeeded and made careers. A go-getter with dreams. I like that. People should always dream. I lost my dream a long time ago.”

John couldn’t help but hear the pain in Bear’s voice. “What happened to your dream, Bear?”

Bear paused a moment, unsure if he should continue. “Is story for another time, I think. Get some food, John – waitress will be back soon.”

John nodded. “Okay, Bear – but I hope you’ll tell me later, when you’re feeling more comfortable with it.”

“Maybe, John. I don’t speak of it often. Maybe later.”

It was plain to see that whatever Bear’s story was, it pained him to speak about – or perhaps even think about, so John let it slide and took a look at the menu Jaseera had left them. It took a few minutes, but he found a couple of things that looked reasonably good. He couldn’t identify half the ingredients, but he figured if they were on a menu they must all be edible, and probably legal to eat so he didn’t worry too much about his choices. Shrrk apparently looked like Terran beefsteak – but he felt like something different, so he ordered something that looked sort of like poultry, called Kian, cooked with a white sauce and vegetables, and a mixed drink he could barely pronounce. I am going to really have to bone up on the local foodstuffs, I think, or I’m not going to have a clue about what I’m eating or drinking, he thought. I kind of expected to find a pan-galactic gargle blaster on the drinks menu, he thought to himself, half wondering if he was disappointed he hadn’t. He settled on mildly disappointed.

Jaseera returned a few moments later with Bear’s pitcher of beer, and took my order, then headed off to another table to aid other customers.

“Sorry if I upset you by asking, Bear.” John started. “I just was trying to get to know you a bit better. I don’t know much about any of you or your crew.”

“Da.” Bear replied. “I guess that is true. I will tell you story.” He sighed. “On my planet – Burston, we call it – we are mostly farmers, who farm for the Marquis of Squanine, who is a good man. We have some odd customs, but one we all know is that monsters are real. They live in the woods, and the mountains away from people – and one night a year, they hunt. They hunt us.”

Bear paused and took a drink of his beer. “On Burston we celebrate festival of Walpurgisnacht – a night of staying together, praying for survival and safety. It I think is old Earth tradition, but we don’t care. To us it is night of safety, where we go to safest part of buildings and lock ourselves inside until dawn. Until the hunt is over.”

“What… What hunts your people, Bear?” John asked. It sounded like superstition, but was it?

“Creatures of the night.” Bear replied. “Things from ancient legend that most people don’t believe still exist. When the Imperials came to Burston 800 years ago and reintroduced us to the empire, they did not believe either. After first Walpurgisnacht, they believed, the ones that remained.”

“Have any of your people tried to hunt them down, to protect their families?”

“Da. Several times. Each time we lost whole communities in reprisals. We get world for most of year – they get world for one night. Is fair trade, I guess.” Bear looked sad, and brushed a tear from his eye. “The night my dream died, my girlfriend Sorcha was picking flowers in the woods, and lost track of time. She was like that – distracted and happy. She was only person who could make me smile.” Bear smiled a bit at the memory. “She did not make it to shelters, and spent the night outside. I was panicked, and frightened. I knew what would happen to her.” Bear paused. “We found what was left of her the next morning. The next day I signed up for the scout service. I have never been back.” Bear sniffed a bit, and wiped away another tear. “The only other person I have told that story to is Drago. Be honored.”

John didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. “Thanks Bear. That must have been a hard thing to see.”

Bear nodded, unable to speak, and John just let the conversation end, and sat there in companionable silence with Bear.

Their food arrived a few moments later, and both of them fell to eating. Bear seemed to enjoy his Shrrk steak, and the poultry John ended up with – the Kian – tasted sort of like Terran turkey with a béchamel sauce and some root vegetables. The large portion of Kian also had a kind of bread stuffing inside it. It was actually pretty good. Neither spoke until their respective dinners were done.

Jaseera returned soon after, and after asking if they needed anything else, she took their dirty plates away and refreshed their drinks. Bear paid for their meal and left a pretty decent tip for the waitress too. John noticed dinner and drinks came to about 25 credits – which if his estimation of $5 dollars to a credit was right, meant dinner and drinks was about $125. Considering the size of the steak Bear had enjoyed, and the pitchers of beer, plus John’s meal, it seemed about right.

“Now what?” John asked, after their table had been cleared away.

“Now we wait and see if someone has job for us.” Bear replied.

John nodded. It might be a long night, he thought.