Lost in Translation

Holly’s voice boomed out of the wall monitor, at least five thousand times louder than usual.

“There is a meeting in the refectory after breakfast, all personnel are required to attend.”

Alex fantasised about yelling ‘shut up’ and throwing a boot at the screen, but he didn’t, as he reckoned the volume required for a shout, and the movement required for a throw, would probably have been enough to finish him.

A harvest-ready cotton field had apparently sprung into existence on his tongue over night, while a pneumatic drill seemed to be working its way along his ear canal, and a particularly overweight rhino tap-danced on his brain.
It was unpleasant but he’d experienced worse - like the post-Philcohol hangover.
He shuddered at the bleary nauseating memory and pulled his blanket around himself, trying to keep from dying in as gentle and still a way as possible.
The lights were raised to simulated-morning level, not even at 60% yet, but they may as well have been Sol itself, horrendously overly dazzling as they were.
He tried croaking a light-lowering command but nothing came out, so instead he pulled the blanket over his head.
It smelled… nice. It carried the delicate fragrance of Woman.
Oh… yeah. Doctor Jade… Crikey.

He attempted a frown, trying to recall what exactly had happened the night before, but he discovered that it was too painful and sickening to use his brain, or even move his eyebrows, so instead he lie very still and tried to ignore the screaming of his rupture-verging bladder.

Some staggered steps and a relieving of the bladder later:

He managed a smile when he saw there was a cheery looking note on his workbench/desk, scrawled on his doodle pad - must’ve been left by the lovely Dr Jade. He gave it a go, but, unable to read very well at the best of times, he struggled to understand hardly any of it through the thick hangover and the doctor’s squiggly handwriting.

<snip>
Mr Frowny, sorry I had to go. I didn't want to wake you, saves all the awkwardness as well. Don't forget to take the pills. Eat something, drink a lot of water and you'll be fine. Don't feel too unwell for too long, come get me for a coffee if/when you feel up to it.
J

:)
</snip>

He scanned it with the PalmPuter’s rear sensor, but even the ‘Puter couldn’t decipher all of the wiggly words, and omitted some which it was unable to scan.

This is what the computer managed to make out, and what it announced to Alex in the programme’s monotone, expressionless, voice:

Mr Frowny,

Sorry [-]. I didn’t want [-] you, awkwardness as well [-]. Don’t [-] take the pills. [-] drink a lot [-] fine. [-] Don’t [-] come get me.
J
Smiley face.

There were words missing, but he (thought he) got the gist.
Baffled and slightly hurt by “Sorry. I didn’t want you” and “don’t come get me”, Alex wondered why she’d bothered to draw the smiley face.
As for the middle section, he could only imagine that she was calling him a drunk and saying she didn’t want anything to do with him.

What exactly had they got up to last night to make her say those things? He knew he’d been a bit flirty, but who wouldn’t be? She was hot. He must have done something really offensive, he wished he could remember what. Maybe they’d… No, he didn’t feel particularly post-coital. No they’d just fallen asleep, hadn’t they? He did remember cuddling her at one point. Oops. But what was a hug between ship-mates?

It’s not like anything could happen anyway, he didn't 'do' being close to people, not any more. He winced as he remembered how relaxed he'd been the night before, not cool. It wasn't like they could 'go out'. As much as he did want to sleep with… well, anyone, to be honest (apart from Pancake)… he didn’t see how an actual relationship could work, out here, three million years into space.
Deep space meant the group needed to rely on each other – often during matters of life and death - and he knew from bitter experience that girlfriends and wives, which inevitably became ex-girlfriends and ex-wives, were a demographic which categorically could not be relied on.
Unless it was to slap him round the face or break his stuff - they could all be relied on to do that.
They rarely saved lives, at any rate, and it was a distinct possibility that they might even endanger them. Probably on purpose. He’d have trusted Bedge more than most of his exes – even before the former spine-ripper was reprogrammed.
Plus, all the trouble with Jay and Cass caused him to wonder - how could you escape the person who hurt you, when you were thrown together for survival?

Relationships meant distress.

Back during his whoring days he’d never really felt degraded – sure, at the time he was a dirty desperate drug addict and doing it for the money, but there was a lot to be said for all the sex and none of the strings. It wasn't actually too dissimilar to his man-slutty days, except he’d gotten paid and caused less upset.
Payment vs partner picking, he was pretty easy. Well, extremely easy.

He sighed, causing a host of aches to announce themselves in various places around his body. Jade being mysteriously disgusted by him was a real lucky break for her.
And what would a smart and attractive doctor want with an uneducated oaf of a mechanic anyway?
Oh.
Right.
That’s probably what the letter meant.

She was out of his league.

Refectory. Breakfast.

A pale Alex - planetside tan temporarily in hiding - walked stiffly into the canteen, more skulk and sulk than stomp and stride today.
He was wearing scuffed trainers, grey jogging pants and a baggy white t-shirt, as if he felt too ill for normal clothes.
Which he did.
There was a fag hanging out of his mouth, and his hair was so messed up it looked as if it had been back-combed.

A couple of people looked up, including Jade, who he went and sat beside.
Why was she smiling like that? There was no need to gloat.
He gave her a hurt look.

“I uh, I just wanted to say sorry, or whatever” he mumbled, “I shouldn’t have asked you to go in my shower. Or bed.”
She looked at him strangely.
“I was drunk” he added, hoping that would explain his stupidity, and anything else which had caused her upset.

Seymour overheard and his mouth opened in an ‘O’ of surprise.
“Mister Solvay, did you just say what I think you did?”
Solvay shrugged. “None o’ your business”.
The ambassador gave him a disapproving frown.
“Now come on, you can’t jolly well go around propositioning the crew.”
“I don’t!” He looked at Phi – a female - for backup. “I don’t, do I Phi?”
“Erm, actually Alex you did, on Fernandos - you said we should ‘knock boots’...”
Seymour grimaced. Jade raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah but that was differe-“
“He wanted to sleep with me, too.” Molly cut in.
“Yeah.” Jacky muttered. “Perv.”
Jade frowned and moved her chair a little, away from Alex.

Seymour’s face was reddening. Alex couldn’t tell if it was with embarrassment or anger (or perhaps even jealousy).

“Is this true, Mr Solvay?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not how it sounds.“
Molly gave him a fiery look. “It kinda is.”
Niples shook his head “I had no idea you were so… voracious.”

Alex sat with his head hanging, throbbing, as Seymour continued the chastisement.
“… I’m disappointed in you Mr Solvay, I really am.”
“This isn’t fair” came the mumbled reply.

He looked at the others, it felt like they were all staring at him, making him feel like a naughty kid being scolded over breakfast in front of his siblings. Also, they were only making him sound even more awful to the doctor.
He gave her a sad and guilty sort of look, then stood up, his chair scraping too loudly over the canteen floor.

“Look, I don’t think you understood my meanings” he announced, firmly but quietly, addressing Phi.and Molly.
"Oh come on, Alex-" Phi began.
Suddenly angry, he snapped his gaze at her.
“Well there’s nothing wrong with knocking boots anyway. It’s healthy!”

And he stormed off, devoid of love and breakfast.

Plisken looked up from something he’d been engrossed in reading.
“Not more drama?” He shook his head “It’s like a rubbish soap opera around here.”

“I’m very sorry about Mr Solvay’s behaviour, Dr Black” Seymour apologised to a somewhat dazed looking Jade “I do worry about that boy’s mental capacity sometimes.”

“Ain’t a boy!” Came Alex's angry voice, echoing back through the refectory as he blundered out through the door.

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