“Wild Card Wanderer, you are free to dock.”

“Gah! Fuck.”

“I told you this would happen,” Corey said. After hours spent waiting for a docking bay to be cleared, Tooley had opted for one of her favorite ways to kill time. Corey’d had a sneaking suspicion that they would get called to dock mid-coitus, but that suspicion had not been enough for him to say no to sex.

“Yes yes, you’re very smart, get off me,” Tooley said. She pushed him away and then wormed her way out of bed. “Where are my pants?”

“Which ones?”

Tooley’s new bedroom was nearly three times the size of her old quarters back on the Hermit, but all the extra room and storage space had done nothing to mitigate the mess. The room was still layered with discarded clothing and garbage. Tooley found a suitable pair of pants adrift in the detritus and hastily put them on before running out to the cockpit to start the landing sequence. Corey, who was not in such a hurry, jumped into the cleanser. He enjoyed the pleasant subsonic hum for a minute before Tooley joined him.

“Done already?”

“Yeah, these big planets usually have everything automated,” Tooley said. “I just had to input the ship specs, cargo weight, that kind of thing. You should’ve come, I could’ve walked you through it.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Fine. You want to finish what we started? Docking’s all automated and we got about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll pass, thanks. Interruptions ruin the mood.”

“You are taking all the fun out of having a private cleanser, Corey,” Tooley said. Unlike the Hard Luck Hermit’s communal space, the rooms on the Wanderer had their own private bathrooms. “Make yourself useful and help me fluff my hair out.”

Tooley’s species had very dense hair, so tightly packed that even the cleanser couldn’t reliably clean it all out. Corey reluctantly ran his fingers through Tooley’s mess of hair until she was satisfied and ready to step out into the world, clean and calm.

***

“Ten-thousand cece’s for a docking pass!”

Tooley was still clean, at least.

“It is festival season, ma’am,” said a concierge wearing the most strained smile Corey had ever seen. He’d seen people forced to smile at gunpoint who looked more natural. “And you are entitled to all our safety assurances, personal and ship-service amenities, and our convenient festival access.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Convenient? It’s on another continent!”

“But thanks to our rapid oceanic transit system, the Festival of Kites is only half a drop away,” the concierge said. “And parking on that continent is thirty-five thousand cece’s.”

“Ugh, when you put it like that, maybe this is fine,” Tooley said.

“Millions of people are trying to get here,” Corey shrugged. “It’s basic supply and demand.”

“And we are splitting the cost of our stay four ways,” Farsus reminded them.

“Could be five.”

Kamak remained smugly silent. By abdicating any choice in where they took their vacation, he had apparently also exempted himself from paying for any of the associated costs. Nobody wanted to bother arguing with him about it. As expensive as the fees were, they were still well within their budget.

“I miss when people were giving us free shit for saving the universe,” Tooley grumbled. She still got a free drink now and then, but the initial wave of gifts had long since worn off.

“We did waive the usual security deposit fee,” the concierge said. “That removed roughly two-thousand cece’s from your total.”

“Oh. See, you should lead with that kind of stuff, helps with the initial sticker shock.”

“I will keep that in mind,” the concierge said. She took a deep breath, and the fake smile faded for a moment. “I’ve only worked here for a month, I don’t really know how to handle this stuff.”

“Well fuck, now I feel bad for yelling,” Tooley said.

“You should.”

“Shut it, Kamak.”

Farsus could sense an argument forming and stepped into intercept it.

“Where is this transit system, then?” Farsus asked. “Do we need to purchase tickets?”

“No, transit costs are included in your docking fee,” the concierge said.

“You really got to put this stuff in your opening pitch, lady,” Tooley said.

“Should I mention we also offer complimentary refreshments?”

“Is it bottled water?”

“That is available, but we also have coffee and lo-ē juice,” the concierge said. “It’s a local beverage.”

“Interesting,” Farsus said. “I would like some.”

The concierge handed over a pleasantly chilled plastic bottle of some dark-red juice. When he confirmed it was palatable, the rest of the crew figured they might as well too. Corey found it very similar to pomegranate juice, with a slight hint of citrus as well. He liked it so much he asked for one more for the road as they got directions to the transit station and headed for the festival.

“Well, Corey likes the juice and Doprel’s scaring away the crowd,” Kamak said. “Festivals off to a great start.”

Doprel bumped a ridged elbow into Kamak to let him know he did not appreciate the jab. While Doprel’s intimidating alien physique kept the crowds at bay on the otherwise crowded ship, Doprel did not like that he intimidated the people around him.

“I’m being sincere,” Kamak said. “I like not getting crowded, and also this is pretty damn good juice.”

He took another sip from his bottle to emphasize the point.

“Need to find out if they make any cocktails with this stuff, I’m thinking a nice kepo mix with some sugar on the rim of the glass.”

“Fuck, that does sound good,” Tooley admitted. She and Kamak disagreed on many things, but booze was the great uniter.

“You can get drinks anywhere, guys,” Doprel said. “Check that out.”

Doprel pointed a cerulean finger towards a massive canopy window, and all eyes turned that direction. Though they were still miles off from the true festival grounds, the decorations started early. Thousands of kites, sails, and gliders flew past in a blur, filling the sky with streams of brilliant color and flashing light.

“Alright, not bad,” Kamak admitted. Maybe this vacation would be worth a damn after all.