Skee-ball at Vulcana Regar
The underground arcade bubbled with noise, a faint scent of the kreyla bakery above filtering through the vents along with the smell of saltwater taffy, jumja sticks, and other confectionery. Primary colors and music punched through throbbing air. Taurik walked with the usual sedate Vulcan grace, though his little girl scampered ahead with a pouch of yonuk coins ringing in her hot little hand.
“Here, Yata!” Talys, seven years old, hopped up and down in front of a skee ball lane, the marquee lights pulsating to attract children. And adults, judging by the line of Starfleet officers, off-world tourists, and even a few Vulcan parents with their offspring.
“Yes, Talys,” Taurik said, loud enough to carry above the din. “Go ahead.”
She wriggled with uninhibited joy, and Taurik allowed himself a small smile. Caught the eye of a Vulcan mother out with her sons, the boys dipping and rolling the hard brown skee balls with moderate accuracy. The woman nodded in return and lifted her mouth in a tiny smile of commiseration, warmth held mostly in her eyes.
“Dad!” Talys crowed as her own skee balls clacked down the chute. Slipped into the Standard language, which she had acquired in her first two years of life at Mars Colony. “Dad! You play too!”
Taurik shrugged his heavy black robe from his shoulders and draped it across a table with two precariously balanced sodas dripping with condensation. He needed his arms free, so he rolled up the sleeves of the black tunic he wore beneath. He moved with lithe grace back to the lane and took the first ball, considered the 3.048 meter lane, and rolled the ball with precision. It hugged the edge, launched, and drummed into the narrow 100-point cup. He next scored a 50, a 30, a 50 again, until all nine balls were spent.
The machine chuckled with electronic music and spat out 15 white paper tickets from a slot in the lane panel.
“Again!” Talys crowed, her black braids coming unraveled across the shoulders of her purple jumpsuit.
By the time they were done with their pouch of credits they had 437 tickets. Taurik slid back into his robe as Talys fed them into the tally machine and presented the claim sheet to the redemption attendant with a bold air. “Four-three-seven!” Talys announced, kneeling to look at the shelf that contained prizes in the 400-ticket range.
The bored Vulcan teenage girl behind the glass counter slapped the slip and slid it over the edge into a box. Taurik waited a moment to see if she would pop a mouthful of bubblegum, but she only regarded him with slightly desperate dark eyes.
“This one!” Talys pressed her finger against the glass hard enough to bend it and render the pad bloodless. “This Terran animal, Daddy.”
Taurik knelt next to his girl and peered at the green plastic monstrosity the length of his hand. Torpedo-like, six black legs spread out on either side, and huge plastic googly eyes at the corners of its square-shaped head. “Orthoptera Caelifera, a Terran grasshopper.”
“You are certain? You also qualify for a large jawbreaker and two tart sours.”
Talys looked at him with one eyebrow raised in patient disdain, the face his but expression entirely her mother’s.
Taurik stood. “The grasshopper and two tart sours, please.”
“The toy hops if one presses on its posterior end,” the teenager said as she pulled the cabinet open with a rumble. She took one of the grasshoppers out and set it on the counter, pressed on the tail. The grasshopper lurched several centimeters forward with an absurd gyration of its googly eyes.
Talys squealed. Taurik bit the inside of his bottom lip and swallowed a laugh. He could already picture L’Del’s reaction, a roll of her violet-brown eyes and a retreat into her music studio. She tolerated their collection of adhesive mustaches and corncob pipes, but this monstrosity would push her limits.
The grasshopper rattled as Talys swept it into her arms and cuddled it against her chest. She popped one of the sours into her mouth and Taurik took the other, their breaths taking on the scent of green apple and sugar.
“What is your creature’s name?” Taurik asked as they left the arcade, hand in hand.
“Gozer the Destructor.” Talys said, proud tilt to her chin.
Taurik again bit his lip and waited until his laugh died in his throat. “Apt, my child.”
