Maggie's Story (Intergalactic Matchmaking Services) (10 page)

☆★☆

Daxon entered Maggie’s room without knocking. He found her asleep on the couch in the living area. Maggie woke as she heard the door close behind him.

“Here is the replicated material for your pet. How exactly does this help the pet?” asked Daxon, handing over the small bag of kitty litter.

“Thank you. I put it in the box we brought, called a litter box. When she needs to … ummm … eliminate body waste … she will do it in the box. Then I scoop it up and flush it down the toilet.” Maggie could feel her cheeks redden as she tried to explain this process as clinically as possible.

“It all sounds very unsanitary,” said the security chief with a slight curl to his lip. It was fascinating how human-like some of their expressions were.

“Well, it isn’t, I promise.” Maggie was at a loss for what else to say. He obviously didn’t understand pets, and didn’t seem too willing to learn either. If he was supposed to be her guide she was worried about her time aboard the space ship; he didn’t seem to want her around and he wasn’t very friendly.

“If you will follow me, I will take you to our medical bay and have the Medic look at your arm. They may be able to help it heal faster.”

“Oh, sure, that would be great! Let me get Mamzell set up and I’ll be ready to go.” She quickly set up the litter box for Mamzell in the bedroom. It was a bit of a juggling act, trying to lift a ten pound bag with just one working arm, but she wasn’t about to ask Daxon to help. As she rose to go, she found Mamzell was once again checking out the security chief. For a cat that wasn’t fond of strangers, she sure seemed to like this one.

“Your cat is exfoliating again,” said Daxon, while trying to gently move his pants legs away from the feline.

Maggie laughed aloud. “I think you mean she is shedding. That is what it is called when furry animals lose their hair like this.” She couldn’t help laughing; she envisioned the cat in the shower with a loofah sponge soaped up and ready to scrub.

“Okay, I’m ready to go. Come on little lady, away from the door. I’ll be back soon.” Maggie shooed the cat away from them, toward the bedroom. She was sure the Nordonians would not appreciate having a small pet running around the ship. Who knows how much trouble she could get in to?

Daxon opened the door when Maggie got close to him. As she followed him down the corridor, she could not help but admire his form. He was a fine specimen of masculinity in her book. Now if only she could get him to smile; she would love to see what a smile does to his face. She liked the stylized flames he had tattooed to the back and sides of his head.

“Did Nordonian women also wear a tattoo on their head, Daxon?” she asked him hesitantly. She didn’t want to offend him, but she was here to learn about them and that could only be done by asking questions.

“Yes, they did, but only after they mated. They would then wear the clan tattoo of their mate.”

“Oh, okay. How old were you when you got your tattoo?”

“On my sixteenth birthday. That is when Nordonians are considered grown enough to start making their own decisions.” He waved her into the elevator. “Medical Bay.”

“So the elevator is voice activated?” she asked.

“Yes, or you can press in your destination on the panel. Most controls on the ship use both methods.”

“That’s good to know.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. Maggie followed Daxon out of the small lift and turned left when he did. He immediately turned right into a huge room with what appeared to be narrow padded exam tables lined up on the left. There were five of them, each surrounded with different machines and wall panels.

Maggie watched as a tall male, dressed in similar clothing as Daxon, approached. The only difference in their clothing was the new person’s tunic was a deep green.

“Who do we have here, Daxon?” asked the smiling male. He extended his right hand to Maggie. “Hello, I am Marko of the Starza clan, the head of the Medical Department.”

“Hi, I’m Maggie Cline. It’s nice to meet you,” replied Maggie with a smile.
So apparently Nordonians did know how to smile
, she thought. She looked at his scalp and the various sized stars that were tattooed round his skull. There appeared to be a large one at the crown of his head.

Daxon spoke up finally. “Ambassador Pacer would like for you to look at Maggie’s arm and see if you can help it heal faster.” He frowned as he looked at Maggie’s hand in Marko’s.

“Certainly. Just follow me, Maggie. What happened to your arm, if you do not mind my asking?” Marko did not seem concerned with Daxon’s frowning, so Maggie chose to ignore the security chief, too.

“I was attacked by three gang members, and one of them stomped on my arm, breaking it. This and a mild concussion is what I came away with.” Maggie followed the medic to one of the beds and hopped up onto it when he patted the bed.

“Well, we shall just take a scan of it and see what we can do for you,” he replied with a smile. Maggie noted how he spoke formally, too, just like Daxon and Pacer. Whoever taught them English must have been a formal person, too, she realized. Or perhaps it was a computer program? She would have to try to remember to ask someone this question. She liked the way their voices had an almost-Scottish-sounding brogue to it. She’d always been a sucker for an accent.

Marko ran a small hand-held scanner over her arm and then scanned her head, too.

“The mild concussion should not be a problem for you; it was definitely mild. The arm I can help heal, too. We just need to submerge it in the healing tank for a little while.” He walked away, presumably to get the necessary items to fix her up.

“Sounds great. Need me to do anything?” she asked.

“No. We will just remove the cast you are wearing with this laser, then we will place your arm in this tank here. The gel in the tank will help with the healing. You will need to keep your arm in place for about fifteen minutes.”

The medic proceeded to put action to his words. Using a different hand-held device, he cut away her cast. The weight of her arm, free of the cast and still broken, made her arm ache painfully. He slid a tank filled with a clear gel over to the side of her bed.

“Just lift your arm and place it in the tank, Maggie.”

Maggie did as instructed. There was an immediate relief when she submerged her broken arm into the tank. The gel inside the tank closed around her injured limb. It felt like cooling Jell-O-O. She sighed deeply as the ache was soothed away. She looked at both of the Nordonian males and said, “Thanks. This already feels better!”

“So, Maggie, tell me about yourself. What brings you to our starship?” asked Marko with a smile.

“Well, I can’t work for a couple of weeks, so I thought this would be the perfect time to visit.”

“What do you do on Earth?” he asked.

“I teach first grade children. They are about six to seven years of age.”

“What made you decide to consider Nordonians for a possible mate?”

From the corner of her eyes, Maggie could see that the security chief was also paying close attention to her answers. “I figured, why not? I haven’t had much luck on my own, so I thought I would try the matchmaking service. Finding out about aliens was a shock, that’s for sure!”

Marko smiled at Maggie. “I imagine it was.”

Maggie figured the pain pill she had taken earlier had loosened her tongue. She didn’t normally talk about herself very much. “I’ve always wanted a relationship like my parents had. They were meant for each other. They built their marriage on love, trust, and faith. Not a religious faith, but a faith built on knowing they could count on each other. My father never had to worry that my mother would do something he would disagree with while he was gone from home. He was in the Army. He always said you have to have faith in your spouse that they can handle whatever pops up at home while the soldier is away. I don’t see that sort of closeness in most people these days, though. The divorce rate is so high. It’s hard to believe I will ever be able to find that kind of closeness for myself, especially after my last relationship.” Maggie couldn’t stop the frown that came to her when she thought of her ex-boyfriend.

“Is it okay to ask what happened?” asked the medic.

“He cheated on me with another woman. I admit, I’m not much on sharing my guys with other women!” said Maggie, with a chuckle. She tried her best to laugh about it. Crying about it sure wouldn’t help anything at this stage; she had cried more than enough tears at the time. Besides, the jerk wasn’t worth her tears.

The gel in the tank was starting to make her arm tingle quite a bit. It felt like she had her arm submerged in a huge glass with a dissolving Alka-Seltzer in it. “Is the tingling in my arm normal?” she asked.

“Yes, that is a good sign. It means the bone is healing. I am sorry to hear your last relationship went so poorly. We Nordonians believe in monogamy, as our research says most humans do, too. So how are you enjoying your stay with us so far? Are there any questions I might be able to help with?”

The medic seemed genuinely interested in her answers. This went a long way in comforting Maggie; she was starting to fear most of the Nordonians would be stern and unsmiling like the security chief. Though she didn’t miss the fact that he was listening closely to her answers. She wondered if she dare ask the medic what was really on her mind.

“Umm … well … I do have a question. I meant to ask Claire, but forgot with all the chaos from the last couple days.” Maggie could feel her cheeks reddening. How embarrassing to be her age and still blushing, she thought. “Are … are we … I mean humans and Nordonians, actually compatible? Physically, I mean?”

The medic stared at her a second before finally realizing what she was asking. With a smile, he finally replied, “You mean sexually, correct?”

Sliding a glance to Daxon, Maggie blushed harder. “Yes,” she answered in a small voice.  “Sorry, I’m just not used to talking about sex with anyone.”

“Not a problem, Maggie. And, yes, we are compatible with humans. Nordonian males are just like human males, except perhaps a little larger than average. You understand? Everyone is individual, but functionally speaking there are no differences in our races. Genetically speaking we are
almost
identical.”

There was no way Maggie was going to ask him, in front of the security chief, if their coloring continued everywhere. She decided that was something she could find out on her own at a later date.

Maggie heard a small chime sound from the panel attached to the tank of healing gel. The medic grabbed a small towel and pulled her arm from the gel, wiping away the excess goo as he spoke. “There you go, Maggie. How does that feel? It should be almost as good as new, with only a slight tenderness or soreness for a day or so.”

She flexed her arm and her fingers. There was a bit of tenderness, but nothing serious. “Wow, that’s amazing! Thanks, Marko. It was nice meeting you. And thank you for answering my questions.”

“My pleasure. Just take it easy for a couple of days and let me know if you have any other issues.”

“I will,” she promised. She climbed down from the exam table and looked at her guide. “Now where to? Any chance we can find something to eat?”

CHAPTER 15

Daxon looked down at Maggie. He was glad to hear that she was feeling better and that Marko had been able to heal her arm.

“Of course. Follow me. We can eat in the eating hall. It is on this same level.”  He proceeded out of the Medical Bay and turned to the right. Maggie rushed to follow him, trying to match his long strides.

“Will there be other Nordonians there as well?” asked Maggie.

“Yes, there probably will be,” said Daxon, frowning slightly. He wasn’t sure why the question bothered him. Why should he care if she wanted to talk to other males? He couldn’t help recalling how she blushed when she asked Marko about their compatibility for sex. Nordonians did not blush; he found it to be an attractive trait in Maggie.

“So tell me about yourself, Daxon. How old are you? Do you like your job? Are you looking for a human mate, too? Or did the ambassador ambush you with me … like I think he did.”

Daxon blinked at the flurry of questions. He wasn’t used to talking about himself to anyone. His limited contact with females was usually with the pleasure women at a couple of rest stations they had stopped at. By human standards, he would probably be considered very inexperienced, he thought.

“I am forty of your human years. That is young for a Nordonian. Yes, I like my job quite well. No, I am not looking for a human mate. I do not think it will be possible to find a soul mate with another race. Yes, the ambassador did
ambush
me, as you so put it. Did that cover all of your questions?”

“Yeah, that covered them, thanks. Do you ever smile? What do you do for fun?” She could not resist pushing him. There was just something about him that seemed like a huge red button needing someone to push it.

Daxon was surprised by her question. “Of course I smile. Doesn’t everyone smile? And I like to read for fun. Sometimes I watch the human media feeds that we get up here. Usually I end up confused by your society, though.” He was not completely comfortable admitting his confusion, but he could not see any harm in admitting it, either.

“Well, I haven’t seen you crack a smile, yet. I suppose I could keep working at it! What exactly confuses you? I’d be happy to help explain anything I can,” offered Maggie playfully.

“Are you serious about getting to know someone on our starship? Or are you just using us for a break from your current troubles?” asked Daxon. His eyebrow ridge was raised questioningly; it looked like he doubted she would answer honestly. He did not want to see any of his friends hurt by this program. Before she could answer, however, they arrived at their destination. “Here we are. This is the eating hall.”