Dream Girl

by David Burnham

Part 1 and Part 3
appear in this issue.

part 2 of 3

As soon as he’d finished his shift in the vineyard, Lambic walked back into town. He clutched a huge bunch of flowers picked from the communal workers’ garden, in which he shared tending duties. There were a few early birds drifting around the novelty trinket stalls, but by and large the carnival grounds were quiet. Within minutes a burly security guard wearing a holstered pistol, his smart yellow uniform clashing with a mass of curly green hair, approached him.

‘Can I help you, Sir?’ he grunted with an authoritative tone.

‘Yes indeed,’ Lambic replied politely. ‘I am looking for the performers’ accommodation.’

‘Are you now?’ The guard gave him a knowing smile.

Lambic thought on his feet. ‘Yes, I’m making a delivery on behalf of one of my customers.’

He held the flowers up.

‘Hmmmm, that’s an... unusual selection, isn’t it?’

‘Oh no, this is quite the thing on Leopani this season,’ he replied, getting into the role and quite surprising himself with his own boldness.

‘Okay then, go to the left of the main tent, follow it round to the back, turn right by the performers’ entrance and you’ll come to a fenced-off enclosure with a bunch of geodesic envirodomes. If there’s no one on the gate, then the individual performers’ names are on the domes’ doors.’

He looked quizzically at the blooms again.

‘This year’s fashion, you say?’

‘Oh yes, absolutely.’

‘Right, see you in a minute then.’

That last parting shot was a loaded statement and Lambic knew it would only be a short while before the guard came looking for him. He quickened his pace.

The geodesic envirodomes were easy enough to find, and as things hadn’t got going yet, there was no security on the entrance gate. The Great Rombosti was outside his dome and had started his warm-up exercises. He growled playfully, as Lambic went past. He grinned, with what he hoped was an unconcerned air, and scurried past.

In the far left corner of the compound he found what he’d been looking for. There on the gleaming white door, in sinuous silver letters surrounded by images of hoops, was her name. Lambic paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

‘Just a minute,’ she called out.

It was the first time that he’d heard her voice and it was every bit as mellifluous as he’d hoped it would be. His heart rate shot up and the flowers almost shook in his hand. He debated whether to continue the role of a delivery boy, but before he could think of his next line the door clunked open.

‘Hello, how can I... Oh, hello, it’s you!’ She’d recognized him and he grinned, despite his nerves. She looked wonderful, wearing a red halter neck top with a plunging neckline and a short white skirt.

‘Hello, Omorfia, please forgive my intrusion. I really enjoyed your performance last night. I thought you might like these,’ he said, holding up the flowers, still shaking slightly, ‘by way of a thank you.’

‘Oh, that’s really sweet of you, thank you.’ She took them from him.

‘I grew them myself,’ he said proudly.

‘Well now, that makes them even more special,’ she commented, smiling, and oh, that smile.

In his other hand he held a light brown net-bag containing several bunches of grapes, from his own monthly fruit allowance.

‘I also thought you might enjoy these.’

‘Grapes. How lovely. Did you grow these too?’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ Lambic replied sheepishly, as he watched her shoulder-length sliver-blond hair blowing in the gentle breeze. She raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘I work at the local vineyard, the one that supplies the Royal Court,’ he explained.

‘Oh I see,’ she said, and laughed.

Catching the flicker of a wince on his face, she realised that he might have thought that she was laughing at him, rather than with him.

‘I’ve heard that these are amongst the finest on your planet,’ she said with a warm, reassuring voice. ‘Would you like to come in for a while?’

He almost passed out on the spot, but then he remembered the guard.

‘I’d love to, but I told a little fib to the security guy on the way in,’ he blurted out. ‘I sort of intimated that I was delivering the flowers on the behalf of a customer. I’m not sure he believed me.’

That’s done it, he thought. She’ll think I’m a liar and we’ve only just met.

‘Oh don’t worry about that, it was very enterprising of you.’ Lambic looked visibly relieved. ‘Listen, I’ve got to get ready for tonight’s show anyway, so I’d better get on with it.’

He shuffled his feet awkwardly. ‘Yeah, well thanks again for a really wonderful show, I’ll never forget it,’ Lambic said, with such sincerity that Omorfia leant forward from the steps of her dome and kissed him on the cheek.

He blushed.

‘You know my name, but what’s yours then? Flower-delivery boy.’

‘It’s Lambic Zetoon,’ he replied, gazing into those spellbinding blue eyes.

‘Lambic,’ she repeated. ‘I like you Lambic...’ Omorfia paused and lightly bit her bottom lip. ‘I felt something last night, both during and after my performance, and I think that you felt it too.’

Lambic nodded.

‘I thought so. Look, I really do like you, but I get a lot of... you know, male interest.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ he said earnestly.

‘Yeah, well,’ she giggled. ‘You’re different somehow. Gallant, I think I’d call it. Would you like to meet up later?’

‘Oh, yes!’ His enthusiasm made her laugh and he was captivated once more.

‘Great. Okay, well, I finish earlier tonight. We mix things up a bit for the first week to see which running order works the best for a given planet. Come and see me during the interval. Hang on a minute.’

Omorfia ducked back into the envirodome and Lambic looked longingly after her, watching her graceful movement and the milky whiteness of her perfect skin. She rummaged around for a moment and returned.

‘Here you are,’ she said, pressing a laminated card into his hand, ‘that’s an access-all-areas pass. You won’t have to worry about security with that, you’ll be my guest. Any chance of bringing a bottle of that wine of yours along?’ She grinned cheekily, running her fingers through her hair.

‘Absolutely.’ That was another perk of his trade, and he had just the thing.

‘Lovely,’ Omorfia chuckled and it was music to his ears.

Lambic turned to go, but felt a hand rest lightly on his shoulder. He swung round, read the expression on her face and their lips met with exquisite tenderness. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she whispered.

‘You bet,’ he managed in reply, and practically skipped out of the performers’ enclosure.

‘You were a while. Did you find what you were looking for?’ asked the security guard, as Lambic strode past.

‘I certainly did mate! I certainly did.’

* * *

Back in his small apartment at the Kalifri vineyards, Lambic finished showering and dabbed on some scent from a Jarsini petal distillate that he’d made. It was overpowering, so he showered again and applied considerably less.

He laid out his best clothes on the bed and made a choice. Never before had he made such an effort in his appearance, never really given it a second thought, but something had changed, something fundamental. It had given him strength and a renewed sense of purpose.

He picked up the pass, which Omorfia had given him, and studied it.

This pass gives the bearer access to all areas of the Interstellar Carnival of Delights. It is non-transferable and must be signed and dated by a person authorized to confer guest status on the cardholder.

It was signed “Omorfia — The Dream Girl.” He said it out loud, kissed the laminate and tucked it into the top pocket of his smart white shirt.

Swinging open the door of his refrigerator, he lifted out a blue-tinted bottle and slipped it into a chill-pouch. It was a bottle of 2892 Desirata Kalifri, a crisp, dry white wine, often drunk at weddings and the like, and especially popular with young Leopanian lovers. His employers had presented it to him as a bonus for a particularly successful harvest, and he’d been saving it for the right occasion.

He’d been chuffed to have been referred to as “gallant,” so it seemed appropriate to slip a white jacket on to match his shirt and trousers. Then he headed for the door with a sense of tremendous excitement.

* * *

He breezed through security, marveling at the change in attitude, which the guest pass produced, enjoying every moment. He arrived at Omorfia’s geodesic envirodome and knocked, expectantly, on the door.

‘Hi Lambic,’ said Omorfia, kissing him quickly on the cheek, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Did anyone other than security see you come in?’

‘Er, no, I don’t think so,’ he replied, detecting concern in her voice.

‘Great. Hey, is that what I think it is?’ Omorfia pointed to the chill-pouch in his hand.

‘Yep, it’s a 2892 Desirata Kalifri from our vineyard.’

‘Ah, right. I don’t know a great deal about the wines from your planet, but it sounds lovely.’

‘It’s a vintage,’ he announced, proudly.

‘Oh wow, that’s so nice of you. You’re really spoiling me today,’ she purred. ‘There’s a bottle-opener by the sink and some glasses in the cupboard above it. I won’t be a minute, I just need to change.’

She was still in her exotically flowing stage costume, but Lambic maintained eye contact with her throughout their exchange. She headed through a bead curtain door, in the partition that ran across the middle of the dome.

In the bedroom she held a complex hanger up in front of her and the strips of red chiffon flowed smoothly off her body and onto their perch.

‘Make yourself at home,’ she called out.

Lambic marveled at the interior of her envirodome. The hemisphere was composed of a considerable number of white triangular support structures, conferring tremendous strength with comparatively light materials, making it a perfect traveling home which could be packed away and reconstructed with ease. It could withstand hurricane force winds and its unique design was highly energy efficient. It was so clean that the inner surface seemed to gleam.

Ten minutes later she emerged slinkily back into the room wearing a tight-fitting white dress, which she’d chosen to match her suitor’s attire. She was drying her hair with a towel.

There were two glasses of wine on the crystal table, the bottle was in her refrigerator and he was sitting patiently waiting for her, gazing in wonder at the alien pictures and ornaments adorning her nomadic home.

Lambic smiled as she threw the towel to one side and settled next to him, on a luxuriously upholstered purple sofa. He reached forward, picked up the glasses and handed one to Omorfia. ‘To my Dream Girl,’ he said, clinking his glass to hers.

‘To this evening, to you and to fate,’ she replied, enigmatically. The liquid sung symphonies to her palate. ‘Mmmm, this wine is fabulous,’ she said, taking another sip and closing her eyes in pleasure.

They talked for hours, Lambic about his work at the vineyards, his love of Leopani orchestras and about the planet in general. Omorfia told him about the places she’d been to, the sights she’d seen, of the boredom of the long space flights, about her own home planet of Davthada and tales of carnival life.

Lambic raised the cultural attitude of Leopanians towards unfortunate individuals, such as those whom he’d seen in the freakshow. He voiced his disquiet about their conditions, but she rapidly changed the subject.

Omorfia stood up and was heading towards the kitchen area, to fetch the rest of the wine, when the door of the envirodome flew open and the Ring Master burst in on their cozy little scene. He saw Lambic and immediately drew a pistol from within his jacket. Omorfia ran between him and Lambic, putting her hand up to stop him.

‘Out of the way, girl,’ he hissed, waving the pistol at the frightened young man.

‘No,’ she shouted, ‘not this one, Poniros.’

‘What do you mean “Not this one”? You know the arrangement.’

‘Should I leave?’ Lambic was in fear for his life. Firearms were not a common feature of life on Leopani. He immediately concluded that the Ring Master, Poniros, was Omorfia’s lover and that he was about to be the victim of the other man’s rage and jealousy. He had no doubt that different rules applied in carnival territory, so he stood up and grabbed his jacket.

Proceed to part 3...