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Indri's Initiation

I sat cross-legged on the pillow in the courtyard garden of Temple No.874 of the Holy Order of Saint-Sushri Anastasia Ptolemaios the Poor. I stared at the ships drifting through the black vacuum just beyond the window, along with the rest of the poor, human and alien alike, of Cloudpoint Station. I had taken the lie test, showed I wasn’t a con-artist preying on the kindness of strangers, and put on the saffron sash with the Temple’s ident-tag and waited.  Yeah, I bet on the spider-fights and gambled myself into begging for soup and soy-block from Sweet Saint Annie. It was that or the slave cages! The thought of it made me try to hide in my smartsilk robe. Gvathuku the Hyena, that carcass-licking, snaggle-toothed alien, pitied me and left me with the uwan-made robe and the wrist-smarti, so at least I “wouldn’t be naked and disconnected.Friends don’t do that after all, eh?” Yeah, sure, “friends” my penniless ass!
I looked over at the statue of Anastasia, hand extended in blessing, overlaid with a hologram of the saint in life, pale smiling oval face with long straight black hair, slightly plump figure in a purple and silver sari. I’d hit it. Would that be blasphemy? Would a dead 21Cen saint punish me for checking her out?  I chuckled lamely, shook my head and went back to watching the ships go by.

***
I woke up in the garden, under the statue of Saint Annie, head resting on something warm and soft. I looked up to see her smiling, reaching for my face-- “Indri Roig, Indri Roig!” The shrill synthesized voice chirped from my smarti, snapping me out of sleep. I stumbled in the dark of the room. “Indri Roig, Indri Roig!  The OdysseyViking-Amurihu eyrie-ship Wings of Z’or-Hermes has offered their aid! They will send a representative to Docking Area 99-B in one hour. You must respond within the next five minutes or the offer will be revoked,” it said. A glowing window-screen appeared, displaying information about the ship. I scrolled past it to the big square that read “YES” and prodded at it frantically. “Yes,yes,yes, just take me back to Earth already,” I shouted at the screen. I heard the other residents in the sleeping room groaning and cursing. I got to my feet and ran out of the room, into the “daylight” of the courtyard. I ran,ran,and ran back to the entrance, looking around for someone to help. I shouted into the smarti, “I’m ready to leave but I need someone to take me to the docking area!”

***

“Don’t be crabbing up on the ship. You’ll be a guest with the pirat-- O-V’s and uwan just like you were here,Terran,” the dark and portly monk warned in a thick Yemayan Creole accent that sounded too bright and happy for the serious little man. The docking area was thick with the hissing of airlocks and the burnt smells of cooling engines. We stood waiting, next to a dull gray shuttlecraft, a sphere with a cylinder stuck behind it. Flowing Amurihu script and the name “The Baby” had been painted on it. An elevator came down from the bottom of the sphere. The doors hissed open, and out she stepped.
A halo of curly-coarse brown hair around her head, held high. Golden-brown, tawny skin. Small, elfin-ears that twitched with each sound. Her eyes stared down into me like I was an engine-beetle she was deciding whether or not to crush.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Indri's Initiation

I sat cross-legged on the pillow in the courtyard garden of Temple No.874 of the Holy Order of Saint-Sushri Anastasia Ptolemaios the Poor. I stared at the ships drifting through the black vacuum just beyond the window, along with the rest of the poor, human and alien alike, of Cloudpoint Station. I had taken the lie test, showed I wasn’t a con-artist preying on the kindness of strangers, and put on the saffron sash with the Temple’s ident-tag and waited.  Yeah, I bet on the spider-fights and gambled myself into begging for soup and soy-block from Sweet Saint Annie. It was that or the slave cages! The thought of it made me try to hide in my smartsilk robe. Gvathuku the Hyena, that carcass-licking, snaggle-toothed alien, pitied me and left me with the uwan-made robe and the wrist-smarti, so at least I “wouldn’t be naked and disconnected.Friends don’t do that after all, eh?” Yeah, sure, “friends” my penniless ass!
I looked over at the statue of Anastasia, hand extended in blessing, overlaid with a hologram of the saint in life, pale smiling oval face with long straight black hair, slightly plump figure in a purple and silver sari. I’d hit it. Would that be blasphemy? Would a dead 21Cen saint punish me for checking her out?  I chuckled lamely, shook my head and went back to watching the ships go by.

***
I woke up in the garden, under the statue of Saint Annie, head resting on something warm and soft. I looked up to see her smiling, reaching for my face-- “Indri Roig, Indri Roig!” The shrill synthesized voice chirped from my smarti, snapping me out of sleep. I stumbled in the dark of the room. “Indri Roig, Indri Roig!  The OdysseyViking-Amurihu eyrie-ship Wings of Z’or-Hermes has offered their aid! They will send a representative to Docking Area 99-B in one hour. You must respond within the next five minutes or the offer will be revoked,” it said. A glowing window-screen appeared, displaying information about the ship. I scrolled past it to the big square that read “YES” and prodded at it frantically. “Yes,yes,yes, just take me back to Earth already,” I shouted at the screen. I heard the other residents in the sleeping room groaning and cursing. I got to my feet and ran out of the room, into the “daylight” of the courtyard. I ran,ran,and ran back to the entrance, looking around for someone to help. I shouted into the smarti, “I’m ready to leave but I need someone to take me to the docking area!”

***

“Don’t be crabbing up on the ship. You’ll be a guest with the pirat-- O-V’s and uwan just like you were here,Terran,” the dark and portly monk warned in a thick Yemayan Creole accent that sounded too bright and happy for the serious little man. The docking area was thick with the hissing of airlocks and the burnt smells of cooling engines. We stood waiting, next to a dull gray shuttlecraft, a sphere with a cylinder stuck behind it. Flowing Amurihu script and the name “The Baby” had been painted on it. An elevator came down from the bottom of the sphere. The doors hissed open, and out she stepped.
A halo of curly-coarse brown hair around her head, held high. Golden-brown, tawny skin. Small, elfin-ears that twitched with each sound. Her eyes stared down into me like I was an engine-beetle she was deciding whether or not to crush.