Surviving the Theseus

Chapter 1: Regina

Regina Valensky had been called killer, murderer, widow maker, assassin, slayer, butcher, heartless monster, and worse. But that didn't bother her. She'd been a Search Out and Destroy officer – a SOAD – for so long, those accusations no longer fazed her.

She walked down a wide open corridor, watching people excitedly go about their vacations. The cheese factor was not without its charm, but it quickly became too much, too gaudy, too in your face. Regardless of the business touting its bounty – food and drink, souvenirs, gambling, whatever – each place suffused her eyes with a kaleidoscope of lights from their storefronts.

With her superiors forcing her to go on vacation, she'd decided upon the space cruise ship, Pyramid One. What better place could there be to study people, their mannerisms, interactions, and idiosyncrasies that made everyone so unique and so damn hard to understand? And understand she must, or die she would. Hunting the worst of the worst required blending in, becoming what she needed to be in order to get closer to her goal: the kill.

She understood the decision of the powers that be, with her peers getting stabbed, shot, and hung. Why chance the decimation of the entire SOAD department? It was her nature to observe others, so although technically on vacation, she would be soaking in all the various behaviors.

As she walked, her cold glare almost never failed to make someone uncomfortable, causing them to look any other way but at her. It brought a smile to her face.

As Regina walked past bars and restaurants with names like, "Pyramid Burgers", "The Pyramid Palace", "King Tut's", she kept alert. Each restaurant's flashy facade had some sort of garish adornment. She didn't know how many gigantic pyramids, golden pharaohs, and sphinxes she could handle.

People never ceased to amaze and baffle. Families crowded the hallway with children shouting, excited, looking forward to events to come and talking endlessly about events passed. Parents smiled, frowned, yelled, laughed, rolled their eyes, or ignored their children altogether.

Then there were couples, some amiable, others bickering over the most ridiculous of things that no one with any sort of reason would be offended by. Why would anyone care if their significant other looked – not gawked, not leered – at a person of the opposite sex? And to the point of calling their mate a loser, a piece of shit, or saying that they suck? Insecurities abound and trump common sense, for what is only a natural inclination to observe others—whether the desire be passing intrigue, lust, curiosity, whatever—it didn't matter.

But none of those people interested Regina.

The loners got most of her attention, especially the ones who stared at her or anyone for longer than what she deemed reasonable. She'd seen the behavior so many times, and sometimes it was only a daydreamer unintentionally looking at what appeared to be a specific person. Other times, someone was looking for a mark, someone to steal from, or worse... hurt. Nothing sinister caught Regina's eye, which she was glad for. She wanted to eat.

Finally, near the end of the cavalcade of restaurants, she found a lounge called "The Club." A large golf club decorated the entrance, something a giant would swing. She stopped, her black running shoes squeaking on the tile floor, and then walked in.

Inside the bar, Regina was reminded of something she'd seen in a museum once: Tube Televisions. They were everywhere, of varying sizes, showing games of golf, football, baseball, hockey, soccer, and basketball. Classic sporting events that survived the test of time, now with modern equipment but not much different than what was in the museum.

She walked by several pool tables, a row of beeping, screeching video game machines, and headed toward the bar—an island of stools, glasses, and liquor bottles. Regina sat down.

After ordering a steak, a baked potato, and a beer, she found a booth in the back corner.

"Hello, Miss."

Regina looked up to see a short, middle-aged man. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a large bump on his hook nose. She frowned. "You talking to me?"

"Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you might let me buy you a drink," he said.

Regina tried making eye contact, because it said so much to her. But his focus on her breasts said even more. "I don't think so."

The man sat down across from her anyway. "I'm Roy."

Regina scrunched her face, bemused. She couldn't believe his audacity. "Look, Roy, I just want to be alone." A strange vibe emanated from him. She couldn't pinpoint anything specific, other than he felt wrong.

Regardless of what she was doing, or where she was doing it, she always carried her weapon. She was used to wearing it in a holster around her shoulders, but didn't want strange looks from people if she wore her trench coat. Instead, she carried the gun in a holster on her leg. She'd rather have a large bulge around her calf than the inevitable questions she'd get wearing a trench coat in the middle of a cruise space ship.

She doubted the weapon would be necessary, but she shifted her right arm just in case she needed to quickly grab it.

"A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn't be all alone," Roy said.

"Nice one, Roy. Cheesy, but nice. Look, I'm trying to be considerate, but you really need to go away now. I won't ask again."

Roy stared at her silently for a few moments, and then he stood up. "Sorry to bother you. I had to try."

The sound of glass smashing behind her caused Regina to turn around. She watched as a waitress scrambled to catch her tray as it crashed to the ground. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she hollered, as a young male patron shrugged his shoulders.

When Regina turned back around, Roy was gone.

She finished her beer just as a waiter brought her food. The steak melted in her mouth, juicy, delicious, and the baked potato was not as good but good enough as she drowned it in butter. When she was done, she ordered one more beer.