"This is it?"

Griffin nodded at Frank’s question. They stood at an iron door in a darkened alleyway. Rori looked cynical,

"And I suppose this is where you give the secret knock and some big gorilla lets us in?" Griffin ignored her, fishing in his pocket and pulling out a clear card with some sort of bar-code printed on it. This he slipped through a sliver-narrow gap beneath the door. A linkage of anxious moments followed, until the card reappeared and an audible ‘click’ came from inside. In fact, there were many clicks, and a couple of sliding sounds as well. Griffin flashed Rori a smug smile as the door opened inwards into a dark room.

Frank followed Griffin in, accompanied by Rori after a moment’s hesitation. Once inside, they stood in complete and utter blackness. Out of it, a low voice penetrated,

"I know who you’re supposed to be, but are you really him, is the question I ask myself now. What’s the password, alleged-friend?"

Frank leaned over to where he thought Griffin ought to be: "Do we know the password?" he asked quietly.

"Don’t worry," he whispered back. Aloud he replied, "There is no password, Thomas, and you know it."

The lights came up suddenly, causing all three to blink or shield their eyes.

"The name is Quasar! Quasar!" The deep voice was suddenly higher and whiny, "Why can’t you remember that?!"

Griffin presented the pale, gangly youth, "This is Thomas Jo--" he caught the other’s furious glance, "Quasar," he finished.

"Are they more aliens?" Quasar asked eagerly.

"He is," said Griffin, waving towards Frank, "and very respected on my home planet." Quasar rubbed his hands together, "Oooooh! Neat! And her?" Griffin made a dismissive gesture,

"She’s Earthen. A… (he appeared to cough-up the word) friend of his."

"Oh." He was clearly disappointed.

"Thomas, it is the day," Griffin proclaimed without much grandstanding. Quasar brightened immediately, even excusing the use of his ‘old’ name.

"Really? You mean today?!"

"Yes, today. So unlock the stores, I’m going home."

Quasar was practically jumping for joy. "Oh, yes sir, Commander! Right away!" He rushed off through a side-door.

"Someone needs to switch to de-caf," Rori muttered.

"Why did he call you ‘Commander’?" Frank inquired, a trifle worried.

"You know humans; so wrapped-up in their little fantasies," he made no attempt to exclude Rori from this generalisation, "He and his friends are obsessed with science fiction. I figured they’d welcome the chance to help me incognito – just like one of their crazy films." Frank grimaced slightly: he loved Earthen science fiction, it was all so entertaining! Certainly there was a difference in the classics he adored and what the youth of the day indulged in, but a rose is a rose. Yet he was not about to debate the subject: Griffin was his ticket home, he didn’t want to lose that. And he didn’t want to lose Griffin…

"One of them," Griffin continued, "kept asking me if I wanted to ‘phone home’. I told him it was extremely unlikely that we could get a simple binary signal that far into space… this place is all very primitive, you know."

Rori coughed in the background and Frank turned to her. "Don’t take it personally, darling, but it is…"

"What?"

"A little… backwater."

"Well, regardless," said Griffin, "I told them I was the commander of part of an intergalactic fleet under a great and powerful general. It was the biggest load of crap you’d ever heard, but the (one could hear undertones of ‘gullible fools’) humans bought it. All I asked was that they hold onto my craft and keep it out of ‘the enemy’s’ hands. Naturally, they were all too thrilled."

Quasar poked his head back around the door.

"Commander Griffin, the troops are assembled and the ship, sir, she’s ready and waiting."

"Thank you, Thomas, and drop the military-talk, it’s getting to me in a big way."

Quasar recoiled, "Yes sir… please follow me." Before accompanying him, Frank remarked to Griffin, "This is rather a strange set-up, though, isn’t it?"

Griffin whipped an eyebrow, "You think this is bad?" He whistled, "Just wait for the cream on the orgy!" Rori flinched involuntarily: another charming Transylvanian colloquialism! Then there was there version of ‘candy from a baby’ – Eyuch!

The adjoining room was filled with all sorts of sci-fi stuff: Battlestar Galactica cast sheets, Trek-posters and autographed stills plastered the walls. A lamp in the right corner of the room was expertly printed with little Enterprises on the shade and a furry Chewbacca action figure stood, weapon in hand guarding it. There were True Science magazines strewn about, as well as several comic books, graphic novels of ‘classic’ films, and several convention pamphlets, some of which had been upgraded to allow for frequent flyer miles.

Standing in front of a tattered blue-leather couch stood four awkward people. Frank looked them over; the first was a female, probably about nineteen, with loose, stringy hair somewhere between blonde and chestnut. She wore floppy dungarees that all but hid her rather modest figure. She had faded freckles under her eyes and across the bridge of her nose and nervously clutched her hands in front of her.

Next was a gangly young man of about sixteen at a guess. Perhaps seventeen, but no more. He was wearing a silver delta symbol on the pocket of a hassled grey shirt. A peculiar thing; the child’s ears were quite unnaturally pointed. After further contemplation, Frank supposed they were fakes, but for what purpose he could not imagine. Some odd fetish? he wondered. A cult of sorts? Not far off, really.

Next to the pointy-ears stood a somewhat stouter boy, his long black hair tied back. He was oriental and his thin, black-rimmed glasses rested precariously on a short nose, whose left nostril was harshly violated by a small silver ring. He wore a black T-shirt with an explosion of acid green across the front. It read: "The truth is out there."

The final addition to this rogue’s gallery was a tall, slim African girl, her hair knotted close to her head and dyed a bricky orange. She wore a crocheted top over a pale lavender midriff, half-revealing her smooth, dark stomach. Frank thought he made out a stud buried in her navel where it vanished into tight black jeans. On her right index finger she wore a mood ring done in silver. It glowed a deep purple.

As he was a very perceptive person, taking this is lasted Frank less than twenty seconds.

"These are my associates," announced Quasar, and proceeded to introduce them in the order Frank had observed.

"This is Nebula, also known as Sara, Robinson. She’s our administrator; she makes sure we know what’s coming up and keeps us on our toes." Frank looked again at the nervous female; she didn’t look as if she could keep a flea on its toes. He was reasonably certain Quasar-Thomas was over-dramatising his people for their benefit.

"Jacques here is our head of research. He holds the knowledge of a thousand civilisations at his fingertips! And this is Maurice Chang, our technical expert. In here we tend to call him ‘Chip’ because he-"

"Please!" Griffin interrupted, "We can work it out, Thomas; get on with it!"

Quasar pouted; "Alright, there’s no need to be such a Herbert!" This was met with knowing looks by the couch-row. "And lastly, but by no means least, this is Xaria, our social scientist and part-time super-engineer."

"So she fixes the loo without disturbing the bugs, huh?" muttered Rori.

Xaria turned to her, her eyes oddly golden, "I have multiple qualifications, I assure you. It was I who kept Commander Griffin’s vessel in working condition."

"Neat. And all that on an android’s salary, eh love?" Xaria looked like she would say more, but instead averted her gaze to the wall, apparently practising some anger-control technique.

"I wouldn’t anger Xaria," Quasar warned. "She can’t always control herself when that happens." Rori had her hands on her hips and leaned forward mockingly,

"What’s she going to do? Bite me?! Bite me!"

"Shut it!" Griffin emoted, "All of you! Do you really think any of this matters to me? I entrusted you with my ship for one reason; there – was – nobody – else! I miss my planet, I miss my people – I will not miss you! So do your jobs so I can leave this stupid planet!"

Frank could have sworn the small group of Earthens shrank a size down; Griffin was quite a force to be reckoned with. Mmmmmm… he remembered sharing that power… perhaps he would again…

"Yes Commander," mumbled Quasar barely audibly. He went over to the large Star Trek: V movie poster and carefully removed it by corner. A glass window was revealed. Through it they could make out a white room and part of something big and smooth.

"Well, it’s about time!" said Griffin, then to Frank, "My little golf-cart, the Velvet Voyager."

Quasar was at the Enterprise-print lamp and Rori half expected him to flip the Chewbacca toy to expose a control panel. Instead, he reached inside the Wookie’s ample fur-coat and withdrew a small key. The next poster to be removed, with great care by Sara Robinson and Jacques, was one of Return of the Jedi, which reached almost to the ceiling. Rori was not surprised to find that it had hidden yet another door. She decided that the entire establishment had to be inside some sort of low-ceilinged warehouse divided into various rooms. Quasar slipped the key into a tidy lock and opened the door. Once inside the white room, Griffin’s entire ship was visible. It was indeed nothing more than a little run-about of a shuttle, about thirty feet in length and fifteen feet wide. The words ‘Velvet Voyager’ were tattooed in dark purple, sinuous calligraphy across the side. The overhead lighting gave it a strange alien aura.

A glorious sight, Frank thought. "Mine was nicer," he said.

Griffin chuckled, "Yeah, but I still have mine."

Rori was in no mood to cut Griffin any slack, "I don’t believe that glorified paper-weight’ll even get off the ground."

Stupid harpy, thought Griffin. "Oh, it will, but you’re another matter, Earthspawn." Fling her out an airlock, that’s what I’ll do! As if reading his thoughts, Frank gave him a glance that was at once beseeching and chastising.

"A little respect, darling, that’s all I ask," he stated. "Love me, at least like Rori."

Griffin looked pained, "Loophole, I need a loophole…"

Frank sniggered. Rori pouted.

Suddenly, they realised that they had forgotten their young assistants. They were standing quietly with wide eyes.

"Er… the craft is ready if you wish to board," tried Nebula Robinson.

"‘Board’? How’re we supposed to get out?" queried Rori, staring at the solid ceiling, "Does this thing slide back?"

"Well… not exactly, no…" stammered Quasar. "We can only open it once…"

"What do you…" Rori swiftly caught on, "Oh no! Seriously not!" They nodded.

"Don’t worry," Chang put in, "the ship will withstand it, and we’ll be in the other room. I’ve had the door reinforced."

"There are charges set at four weak regions above us," this from Xaria.

"Well, no point waiting then, is there?"

Rori opened her mouth to protest to Griffin, but Frank beat her to it.

"You’re sure this is safe? I’d hate to get this far only to…"

"No, no, we’ll be fine."

Rori widened her eyes at the suggestion that someone else would not be. Griffin put his hand to a screen on the shuttle’s exterior and a door slid smoothly open. "You didn’t touch the transit crystals, did you?" he called to Quasar, who was just leaving.

"No sir, everything is how you left it."

"Good."

Griffin beckoned for Frank to follow him inside Velvet.

"Is this how things are usually done?" Rori asked suspiciously. "On Transsexual, I mean?"

Frank grimaced, "I’ll grant you the method seems a little… otherwise… I suppose we must do what we must to ensure success."

"Sounds familiar."

Griffin stuck his head back out; "Come on, then! Unless you want to be crispy crunchy once the blasting starts."

Frank grabbed Rori by the upper arm and pulled her inside with him. Jacques passed the last of their luggage in to Griffin, who then slid the door closed. It made a heavy rolling sound then clicked locked in two different places. They were lodge between four solid walls – the shuttle sides and two extra ones, and there were no controls to be seen. The space was about as wide as wide as the inside of a London telephone booth.

"What the fuck is this?!" ranted Rori. "A trap?!"

"Oh do shut up," sighed Griffin. "It’s insurance against the wrong person gaining access to Velvet’s control centre should they somehow defeat the door mechanism." He removed a headset, which hung from a hook on the wall. Placing it over his head, he broadcast through external speakers on Velvet’s hull. "Thomas; get on."

"What’s happening?" asked Frank. He was up against a wall, twirling a long black lock around a finger. Rori was not spared the fidgets either. She picked incessantly at a fingernail and proceeded to bother a spot on the back of her neck.

It must have been the enclosed space.

"We’re off," answered Griffin. "As soon as the ceiling’s taken care of."

"Commander?" It was Quasar, via another link. "Xaria’s igniting the charges now. They’ll go off in ten seconds. We’re all safe behind the –"

"Who cares!" Griffin droned.

"Er… alright… eight… seven… six…"

Griffin gave a cocky smile, "Cover y’ears." Frank and Rori gladly obliged.

"… Three… two… one."

There was a pause and silence just long enough for Frank to wonder if something had gone wrong. Then an almighty detonation shook the room, and the ceiling collapsed in on itself. Rori looked about frantically, clinging to Frank, as slabs of roof hit Velvet’s skin, making furious clanging sounds. Frank held onto her empathically; stereotypical roles subconsciously asserting themselves. Griffin stood with his arms folded, leaning his shoulder to the wall, looking bored. As the racket subsided, he said; "Now… things like that; another reason for this convenient little bombshelter."

Rori sucked in air, "You mean… you weren’t sure this would work?"

"Is anything sure in this life?" he replied philosophically.

Rori could think of nothing to say back, so she contented herself by making a low growl in her throat.

Frank looked about to laugh. "Still alive!" he said, as if to mock someone. Possibly Riff Raff?

Griffin rubbed Frank’s shoulder, "Yeh, and likely to remain so, love."

A thought occurred to Rori; "Them!"

Griffin rolled his eyes and spoke into the headset-microphone, "Thomas? Still there?" The reply was crackly;

"Yes, we’re fine, Commander, but for a moment we worried about the –"

"Alright then, good."

Rori felt she could see Quasar’s shoulders sag dejectedly as he sighed.

"You’re clear for take-of, Commander."

"Fabulous, Thomas. Your aid has been adequate."

"Sir…?"

"What now, Thomas?"

"Your kind isn’t…"

"Isn’t? Isn’t?!"

"Isn’t going to invade Earth, are they, Sir?"

Griffin laughed, pointing in ridicule at the headset in lieu of Quasar. "Of course, silly!" he said, mimicking Quasar’s whine. "En masse!"

With that, he cut the connection. Flipping the only switch in the area, Griffin said, "Griffin Alpha Tau Gamma Omega." The walls slid back into the shuttle, revealing the rest of Velvet’s interior. He marched swiftly to the cockpit and sat down. He flipped switches, turned levers and jiggled handles. To Frank he called, "Activate the Transit crystals."

It was then that Rori noticed the beautiful crystalline formation radiating an ethereal glow from the aft side. Frank went over and, after a moment’s hesitation, lightly caressed a short crystal. A dull hum came alive about the shuttle. He turned to Rori, grinning,

"First gear."

Playing his hands over progressively longer and more impressive crystals, Frank caused Velvet to lift off the ground, pausing in mid-air on an invisible pocket of support like a hovercraft. In awe, Rori reached towards a small prism, "How do they w – "

Frank’s hand was clamped over her wrist. "Don’t ever touch those!"

Rori’s face fell, "Geez, sorry. What harm could I do?"

He eyes said: You have no idea! "It isn’t safe for someone unskilled in the matter to try and operate Transit crystals, even a native of Transsexual. The results from an unprimed alien would be disastrous."

Griffin turned in his seat; "The Transits operate on the psycho-emotic energy of those concerned. It’s very delicate, so the wrong thought patterns or movements in the field of sensitivity – especially from one as rough-cut as you – would upset it greatly."

Rori crossed her arms, speaking to the crystals. "Don’t be upset," she purred ironically.

"You might want to sit down," stated Frank, projecting an apologetic demeanour for snapping at her.

Rori walked to the rear of Velvet, dropping down on a seat suspicious reminiscent of a Roman divan. She sat bolt upright, hands on her knees.

"Rori, dear… generally we recline," Frank added.

"What? Why?"

He was silent for a moment, supposing it to be self-evident.

"Well… it’s a longish trip and… we’re a rather laid back people… um… Rori, what do you think that’s usually used for?"

Rori looked down at the long, comfy seat, narrowing her eyes. Then, with a jolt, she realised.

"Ew! Even in transit, Frankie?!"

He spread his hands: "It’s a need."

Rori rolled her eyes and lay down – why not? The thing was really comfortable… almost too comfortable.

Frank completed yet another crystal hand-dance and stood back.

"Grifty, we’re in Atmospheric."

"Good." He patted the seat beside him up in front. Frank was slightly torn – Rori? Griffin? Ooh, Heck. He ought to stand by what he had said earlier, he supposed.

"Er… I should stay back here, just to keep an eye on the Transits."

"They took care of themselves when I came here the first time, I’m sure they’ll survive."

"Indulge me."

Griffin shrugged, "Sure. It’s no skin off my – "

"Please!" interrupted Rori, sensing the approach of another sexual colloquialism.

"Fishnet, you Earthens are dull," he muttered.

Frank sashayed over to the wide divan and lay down beside Rori – it struck her how there was only one seat, regardless of the number of passengers. She stroked his flank,

"Aww, you’re just a big pussy-cat."

Frank grinned and did a remarkable impersonation of a purr. Then, "Relax. Once we’re out of Earth’s atmosphere we’ll go into Trans-spatial Drive and it’ll take about three hours to emerge near Transsexual."

"And outside of… er… Trans-spatial? How long?"

"Oh… about…" he twisted towards Griffin, "…nine hundred?"

"Nine fifty."

"Nine-hundred and fifty Terran years."

Rori gaped. "Well! Thank God for Trans-spatial, then!"

"Care for a view?" asked Griffin. He flipped a switch on the control panel and a screen on the wall came to life. Rori and Frank watched the small blue and green planet with its swirling cloud-cover receding fast.

"My God," breathed Rori, "this is incredible."

Frank held her close. "I’m going to miss it," he confided.

Rori looked at him, thinking of all that he represented, what the future alongside him held. She stuck her fingers into his ample hair and explored his scalp; it was so well-maintained that she didn’t run into a single knot or mat.

"I’m not."

"Okay Transits; do your stuff."

As if in response to Griffin’s voice, the crystals glowed brighter than ever. Frank’s hand was on her shoulder.

"This is where you have to sleep."

"And you?"

He shook his head. "I’m used to it."

"Well, I can’t just sl– "

Her head lolled back and her body went limp beside Frank’s. He replaced the small purple vial beneath the divan and Griffin grinned round at him.

"Peace at last!"

"Oh, don’t say that."

Griffin chuckled.

"You and your playthings! Riff Raff was right; you have never grown up."

Frank ignored the reference to his former handyman.

"I’ve just never grown old, that’s what it is."

Velvet ceased humming and lay quiet and still in the local space. Griffin opened a special panel and pulled up the Trans-spatial controls. He gripped the ignition-switch.

"Don’t you just love this bit?"

As he pulled back on it, the Transits turned completely translucent, Velvet’s walls perfectly clear through them. Moments later they flamed a passionate crimson and Earth, Sol, Mars, Venus and the rest vanished from view.

Off the top of his head, Frank asked, "How’s Magenta?"

"Riff Raff’s sister? Hard to say. While he rose in popularity, she sort of faded from the public eye. It appears the two of them have been going through a rough patch."

"That’s too bad," he mumbled, hardly meaning it; Magenta was another ingrate. Imagine! ‘I ask for nothing, master’! How very presumptuous of her to assume he was offering her… favours. Okay, sure, in the instance he had been, but it was beside the point. People just didn’t refuse him! It was unheard of!

Frank glanced at the viewscreen.

"Oh, that was nice! Alpha Centauri, Grifty? Zoom!"

"Yeah, one of the better orbs this far out."

"Uh-huh. How long before Transylvanian Space?"

"Um… probably about two and a half hours."

"Ah. So there’s time, then."

"Time? For what?" queried Griffin, already guessing at the answer.

"Why…" he gently removed Rori’s arm from his shoulders, "… for us, of course…"

Griffin smoothed the wrinkles out of his jacket as Frank styled his hair back into relative neatness.

"Thorough, aren’t you?" he sighed.

"So I’m told."

Frank looked over to Rori, thankful she hadn’t woken up, not for any reason other than his fearing feelings of jealousy from her. He was slipping back into further Earth-wear when Griffin groaned,

"Oh, you’re not getting back into that ridiculous garb again, are you?"

"Well… gee, I rather liked it… besides, all my clothes were lost when the castle-ship took off without me."

"Don’t worry; you’re more or less my size, and I always carry a change of clothes… er…" he chuckled, "… just in case."

Frank sniggered.

Rori awoke to Frank standing over her, dressed in a style of corset she hadn’t seen before. It was decorated with sequins that shone like stars on a dark suede sky.

"That’s new," she yawned.

"Yes. Nice, isn’t it?" He ran his fingers over his waist proudly. "We’ve reached Transylvanian space and we’re out of Trans-spatial." He offered his hand to her. She accepted and groggily got to her feet.

"Can I see?"

"Of course."