Travelogue
Christine scanned the horizon to where Aphos and Lagos were setting in the east. She would never get used to this planet's rotation. Everything seemed backwards on Valduria. The two moons caused the level of the emerald colored sea to fluctuate wildly, drawing back the liquid for several kilometers three times every day at their passing. Gravity was a bitch on Valduria.
Liquid was the best word in English to describe the substance that was contained in that inland sea. The names of the creatures that inhabited it were as hard to pronounce as the monsters themselves were to look at. Outlandish creations, composed of horrendous bulbous features with rows of ragged teeth, made swimming a suicidal adventure. Oh, for the sight of a normal blue sky, and a sun that didn't fill half of it.
"Did I mention the gravity?" she said to herself, mocking the voice of the recruitment officer who had assigned her to this rock in a high falsetto. "You'll get used to it," she continued, "I've been told that there's a slight odor."
No kidding.
Christine had found that by smearing eucalyptus oil below her nose that she could avoid throwing up more than five times a day.
"Join the Diplomatic Corps and be an emissary for Earth." She could still see the garish posters that proclaimed the benefits of travel to distant galaxies, with excitement as well as the great pay hyped as added incentives. If you could call excitement being constantly grossed out, or the salary even marginally adequate, then those posters had been true to their promise.
Learning the language had been a challenge. The Valdurians had a way of fluttering their "tongue" while speaking that was almost impossible to duplicate. That this method of communication resulted in the listener being splattered with saliva was an added bonus not mentioned in the brochures.
Christine had been on Valduria for three long years, and she needed only two more merit points to reach the stellar five hundred mark to qualify for a transfer back to Earth. She longed for the pleasant sights and smells that she had taken for granted during her twenty three years of life back home. This planet was truly the armpit of the universe. Of course there was no word for armpit in Valdurianese because the natives didn't have armpits.
She was currently riding on the back of a snarvel; a snail-like creature that traveled at surprising speed on a constantly renewing layer of slime. The trails on Valduria were thick with a coating of this substance, which added to the pungent aroma struggling to get past her meager attempts to block it.
Her mission for today would be to meet with the chieftain of the local village. She would attempt to persuade him to sign over mineral rights for a tract of land to the west of their settlement. If she was successful, she would gain the coveted two merit points and be granted her transfer. As she brought the snarvel to a gliding stop and dismounted in the village square, she saw that the official she was supposed to meet had already arrived. He stood there smiling, with his gelatinous hands hanging loosely from the ends of stalks protruding from his midsection.
This was the part she hated. It was the custom of the Valduri to grasp the head of the person they were greeting in the palms of their oversized hands. The four fleshy fingers that comprised their hands lacked a thumb, but were all opposable, making for an interesting sensation for the one being greeted. Moisture clung to the skin of the Valduri, which was easily transferred to an Earthling's skin, and could only be removed with vigorous scrubbing. The stench was overpowering.
Christine endured the greeting with her usual aplomb, and smiled back at her host.
"Kryscom bulia du recsal." she said to him, giving the proper respectful salutation. My tongue flutter was perfect, she thought with pride.
"Su klipto garolil" he replied in the formal idiom, thanking her for being on time. As soon as the words had left his mouth, his expression changed to one that passed for alarm on this planet. "Uh Oh" he muttered in the universal language of distress.
With no warning a split appeared at the crown of his head and his pebbled green skin separated with a sucking sound and fell unceremoniously at this feet. The raw spongy tissue that had been exposed was a sickly pink that looked unwholesome and mildly contagious.
"Barflow." He said expressing his embarrassment and regret.
She had forgotten that this was shedding season. The process of shedding had caused a splash of putrid purple gel to hit her square in the face, and the cloying wetness of its impact dripped lazily from her ears and the tip of her nose. Sticking out her lower lip, Christine blew upwards and cleared the remaining moisture from her nostrils. She then pasted on her most winning smile, while trying to resist the impulse to wipe her face or deposit her lunch on top of the rippling skin at his feet.
"There must be an easier way to make a living." she thought through her smile.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and possibly due to the continued embarrassment of the chieftain, she was able to secure his signature on the necessary documents. Returning to her barracks later that night she learned that her transfer back to Earth had been approved. There was a glowing report in her personnel file concerning her handling of the sensitive situation at the settlement earlier that day.
Christine arrived at the transport terminal an hour early, eager to get back on Earth and pay a long overdue visit to a certain recruiter. The shuttle eased quietly into its docking position, and the ramp extended automatically giving egress to the newly arrived replacements from Earth. Christine watched with amusement as a young woman stepped down off the ramp. The new arrival was holding her nose and gagging violently.
Christine threw back her head and howled in laughter. Rookies were the best!
"Here, this might help." Christine handed her bottle of eucalyptus oil to the retching girl, and stepped up onto the ramp.
She cast a final glance over her shoulder at the indigo sky, as she stepped into the shuttle, hoping that her next assignment would be more to her liking. In her satchel she carried a small container of purple gel that she had scraped from her hair the night before. She would tell the recruiter that it was a gift from Valduria; an exotic perfume to delight the senses.