ROBOTS AND NUTCRACKERS
Beka Valentine reached down behind the sofa and pulled out a bag of chocolate covered cherries. Popping one in her mouth she sucked on the hard milk chocolate until a small hole released a gush of sweet liquid. She always wondered if that was what . . . god, she had a dirty mind. When she shell was empty she crushed it with her tongue and savored the candied cherry inside. She wasn’t going to share this chocolate with Rafe; it was all hers.
Rafe was off someplace, probably primping. Somewhere in his deluded head he thought that one of the women, his father’s fancy friends, would be interested in him. Beka knew there was a much greater chance that some man would be interested in her, wanting to smother her with whisky flavored kisses for a chance to grope her budding breasts, than for one of the women to be interested in a fifteen-year-old boy. When she was younger, Christmas was glitter and excitement and, when she was older, she could join in the debauchery; but when you are a teenager, Christmas, especially as celebrated by her father and her uncle Sid, was not fun at all. She was content to sit back and eat chocolate covered cherries.
This Christmas they were at Sid’s house, a big drafty place on some backwater drift. Sid was definitely the big fish in a small pond – or at least he would be until someone found out what he was really selling. Beka had seen this so many times over her short lifetime. Sid would be doing well, holding his head high, and a few months later he would be back on the Mauro with someone chasing after him. That was the life he led, but at this time it was pretty wonderful.
The crowds of people who arrived brought many gifts, mostly bottles of liquor or brightly flowered plants. Enough boxes of chocolates were proffered to make Beka’s behind-the-couch-stash seem meager. Rafe could get his fill of chocolate taking just one piece from each of the boxes under the Christmas tree. Beka knew that in an hour the place would be filled with drunks and loud music and that the best spot would be would be back in her room, unless of course her father and uncle made her stay.
The crowd was silenced to hushed whispers. Beka looked toward the door and noticed that a cadre of people had just arrived, cluctered around a Nightsider she knew was called Gerentex. He had met with Uncle Sid a couple of times this last week. Tonight he had brought a group of females from several different species and a Nietzschean bodyguard who sent shivers down her spine and gave her a dull ache in a place that had never hurt before. Gerentex’s presence demanded attention and he was getting it.
Sid walked over and shook his hand. Beka was glad she did not have to listen to the babble that passed between them. The amount of grease generated in that conversation was enough to give an adolescent girl acne. She didn’t need that. She stifled a pout when Sid’s arm motions indicated that both she and Rafe should come over to greet the guests. She should have skipped that last cherry and gone to her room.
Much to her dismay Gerentex had brought gifts for them. The same man who kept cornering her in the hallway and breathing down her neck as he spoke to her was now treating her like a child. Bringing her a Christmas present all wrapped in shiny paper. The only thing tempering it was that he had also brought one for Rafe. Tonight he was treating both of them like babies. She wondered if he bothered Rafe in the same way.
Rafe unwrapped his gift and found a large mechanical robot. He would have loved it when he was eight or nine. She knew Rafe would have preferred a romp with one of Gerentex’s female friends. He smiled with a sweet smile and said ”thank you, sir.” God, he was a suck up. Gerentex probably would have liked that, too.
Beka’s gift, wrapped in gold paper, turned out to be a huge nutcracker. He was dressed in the uniform, she remembered from her textbooks, of a High Guard officer. Fortunately the cracker part was built into his broad chest, avoiding the overdeveloped and frightening mandible of the traditional nutcracker. She carried it over and placed it next to the candy, fruit and nuts under the tree, ever thankful that it was not flimsy nightwear.
Suddenly, Rafe reverted to the personality of an eleven year old, grabbing the nutcracker and a handful of nuts and dancing around the room while attempting to crush them in the soldier’s chest. That was the Rafe she grew up hating. He showed no desire to eat the nuts once cracked and just dropped them on the floor. Too many tries, and inferior Nightside technology, caused the Nutcracker’s head to break off. Rafe handed Beka the pieces and danced off, in search of the spiked punch.
Beka put the broken nutcracker under the tree and excused herself to her room. How many more Christmases would she have to endure until she was old enough to participate in these parties. She was not at all sure that would make it better; she just wanted to make it different.
* * * * *
The Middle of the Night
Beka awoke. It was silent downstairs. Everyone must have gone home or at least off to a bedroom somewhere. She could still see the lights glowing under her door. She pulled on a long bathrobe incase some of the people were still there and decided to check out the after party squalor.
The crowd had not disappointed. Rafe’s nutmeats had been joined by discarded food and a few sticky condoms. Half full glasses could be found on almost every surface, mostly without benefit of coasters. Beka downed the contents of several before she realized that the stale champagne could have been spiked with a myriad of drugs. Who would know anyway? She wasn’t going to see any adults in a position to pass judgment for at least three days. Rafe was probably stoned, too. She wondered if he had scored.
She found a three quarter full bottle of champagne that still had bubbles clinging to the side and a fresh glass from the bar. She sat on the couch and stared at the still lit Christmas tree as she drank the wine. She noticed that some handy person had put the head back on her toy nutcracker. At least this was different; she was alone.
She closed her eyes and imagined a world where she was the pilot of her own starship. Flying off making a fortune to could spend on beautiful clothes. She’d have a crew of handsome men and beautiful women. Every day would be better than Christmas in this god-forsake drift.
When she opened her eyes the Christmas tree seemed to have grown to a gigantic size. Maybe she had gotten smaller. Most likely there had been some drug in that first champagne. She glanced around the room. In the middle of the rug a band of mice lead by a larger rat-sized Gerentex were fighting a group of toy soldiers in full High Guard regalia. She watched them with the attention of a chess match as they crossed swords and force lances with each other. She figured she wasn’t yet an adult, as long as drugs produced children’s dreams.
She felt hands on her shoulders from behind the couch, and turned to see that her nutcracker had come to life. He had soft blue eyes, light brown hair, and a sweet smile.
“Would you like to come with me, Beka Valentine?”
“Where?”
“The Universe, it awaits you.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Don’t worry, it won’t just be the two of us. I brought a friend.”
The most beautiful woman Beka had ever seen danced into the room. She wasn’t all over-painted and under-dressed like her father’s and uncle’s friends but was exotically beautiful with long dark hair with red highlights. She, too, was dressed in a version of the High Guard uniform, complete with belts that crisscrossed her thighs,
“This is Andromeda. She will help me show you the universe.”
* * * *
“OK, maybe they did dance a little too much,” Beka thought. She had enjoyed the fluttering dance of the meteors, the stately dance of two Percieds, and especially the two half-naked dancing Nietzscheans. But it just went on and on. Some of the dances were downright silly like the one with the dancing pastries or the mother with the small children under her skirt. Of course the captain and his avatar had to do a duet and she a solo.
“Remind me never to drink out of half-empty cups again.” Beka chastised herself.
“Would you like to dance with me?” asked the Captain pulling her to her feet.
“I don’t want to dance. I want to fly.” She said to the handsome captain. He looked at her somewhat surprised and then realized that she was very sincere. “I loved this toy not because it was a doll, or a man, but because it was a pilot. Can you take me to your ship and show me your universe?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“When?”
“Someday.”
“Someday, soon?”
“Someday.”
“Where will I find you?”
“’I’m . . . out there. You’ll have to find me.”
“I will, when I become a pilot. You wait, I will see you again, I promise.”
He pulled the captain to her and held him tight. She waited for him to do some disgusting slobbery kiss or something that would spoil the mood, but he didn’t. He just smiled, a tightlipped, all knowing smile.”
“I have faith that you will, Beka Valentine.”
* * * * *
Rafe stumbled into the room clad only in his boxers. His pants had to be here somewhere. He couldn’t believe it. It had been the most wonderful night of his life. He rifled through the gift-wrap and empty glasses. As soon as he found his pants he would start cleaning up, it time for him to bear his share of the responsibility.
He glanced at his sister lying on the couch holding her nutcracker in her arms. Beka was still a little girl and he would have to protect her from what was out there in the universe. He would protect her. He was a man now. Really a man.
Beka slept dreaming of starships, high guard captains, and flying.
McJude
December 3, 2001