April 24th, UC 0087
Lunar City of Technetium
When Titans High Command had assigned Contessa Puckett to serve a tour on the moon, nobody had told her that her face was going to swell. Nor did any of them mention how upset low gravity could make her stomach. All that even the medics had told her about was that she'd have to get used to wearing weighted shoes when exploring the lunar cities and to regularly perform exercises so her muscles didn't atrophy.
Alas, the campaign of disinformation had successfully crippled the promising officer. Now she lay on the park bench helpless and dying. At least, that's how it felt to her. A passerby would notice the swelling and the occasional ill-sounding groan, it never gave any of the locals more than a moment's pause. If she were being honest with herself, Contessa would admit that she could easily reach down to her hip, pull her phone out of her jeans pocket, and just call for someone from her ship, the Salamis-class ship Darwin, to give her a ride back. Her tanned face would turn red from embarrassment, but that was marginally better than spending her brief leave floundering on a cold park bench.
"So is this your first time to the moon?"
With a Herculean effort, Contessa opened her eyes to see who amongst all the Lunarians had stopped to talk to her. A few inches shorter than the Titan, lighter skin and hair, and she was wearing some sort of business attire. What time was it? Ship's time, Earth time, and Luna time were all set differently and Contessa could only be in tune with one of them at a time.
"How can you tell?" she asked back.
"Anyone who's been here longer than a week gets over the swelling. We call it Cream Puff Syndrome," the Lunarian said. "Name's Isabelle, by the bye. You?"
Heartened by the idea that her face would eventually look normal again, Contessa mustered the strength to sit up and shake hands. "Contessa Puckett."
"Isabelle Funk, DJ of the Dark Side they call me."
Contessa raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Okay, okay. I'm a shipping clerk," Isabelle confessed. "Hoo boy, you're green too. Got the Micro-G Jitters, I'd say."
Before she could protest, Contessa was unceremoniously hauled from her bench and onto her feet, at which point she was hastily marched down the street.
"You're a wreck, but that's easy enough to fix," Isabelle said. "We'll go to Armstrong's for a tonic and then we can do a tour of the best Lunar craft beers, eh?"
"I don't know..." Contessa began to protest, but from what she'd seen of the city thus far, there was nothing else in the city to see. "What the hell! It's MY frackin' day off."
"That's the spirit!"
~
"And we call THIS one the 'Buzzed Aldrin.'"
After a few ginger ales, tonic waters, and a plate of nachos with some kind of fruit on them ("They're a Lunar specialty! You HAVE to try them!") Contessa was feeling better. Of course, she'd begun to feel worse once Isabelle introduced her to the local cocktails, but at least she'd forgotten about her face! Isabelle was doing her best to introduce her new friend to Lunarian history and was in the middle of some rant about zoos when Contessa took a long, hard look at her drink.
"I'm pretty sure every cocktail you've had me try so far is called something else on Earth," Contessa noted, looking at one glass. "This one's not even a cocktail; it's an Arnold Palmer."
Isabelle quickly grabbed the mixture of iced tea and lemonade away, guzzling it down. "Don't you say that about the Neil Armstrong. It's a Lunarian cultural icon!"
Contessa couldn't even tell if her new friend was serious or not. Whether it was because of the three cocktails Isabelle had already had or the three cocktails Contessa had already had, Contessa couldn't decide. She wasn't a Newtype. Before she could continue debating the merits of Lunarian beverage nomenclature though, her phone began to ring.
"This is Contessa."
"Darwin flight control. Ensign, we need you back at the ship."
"Send a car. I'm at the Copernicus Cantina and I am not good to drive. I don't even have a car with me to drive in even if I wanted to."
"Affirmative, ma'am. Car'll be there in ten."
The Titans pilot reached into her wallet and put a few bills on the bar and began walking outside.
"Where you goin'?" Isabelle asked. "I haven't even told you about how badly the bats reacted to low gravity!"
"I gotta get back to my ship. The boss is such an ass, calling me in on my day off."
Isabelle quickly perked up and was walking shoulder-to-shoulder. "You work on a ship? A SPACEship?! That's so cool!"
"It's alright," Contessa said with a shrug. "I liked being on a Big Tray better, but meh."
"Oh wow! Will you tell me a story about your ship?" Isabelle asked, practically jumping into Contessa's arms.
"I'd love to but, like I said, I gotta go."
"Then let's meet at the park again!" Isabelle declared. "Same time, same place, same drinks!"
Contessa laughed. Luna sure had some strange people, but hell if they weren't great hosts. "Yeah, I think we'll be making here a regular stop. I'll be back, same time, same place."
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