Book One: Chapter Four: i

“Mankind’s obsessive search for perfection deprives them of the joy of this imperfect existence. Let us shift the focus from the abstract image of perfection and instead make our unique imperfections the central point that is our genuine whole Self.”

- Cillian O’Tuathail - Journal entry, Year 2619

Local Time: 09:26

Date: Day 127 of the Year 93 according to the Bohemian Calendar - Year 2623 according to the Galactic Calendar

Location: Ádh - Danu - Planet Bohemia - Mid Risk Zone - MUD Territory - Galia

Back on Bohemia, Toal, Eoin and Cillian were making their way to the mess hall after their failed card game in the storage room.

“It certainly has been a wild few days,” said Toal. “I feel like the longer we are away on a mission, the wilder the parties are when we return. It was definitely quite wild for our audacious Captain.”

Toal smiled broadly and then pointed his right index finger at Cillian’s left eye whilst raising his eyebrows in quick succession.

Cillian scoffed loudly and crossed his arms before turning his face away from Toal. “How was I supposed to know the horse had a vicious temper? Nasty beast of a thing.”

“Well, that’s what you get when you steal the horse of one of the Mounted Police Officers,” responded Toal sardonically.

“Steal? Steal?” cried Cillian incredulously as he turned back towards Toal. “Heaven forfend, my dear fellow, I did not steal it! Dash the very thought. Nay, I was merely… how do you say…” he looked up at the ceiling, a quizzical expression on his face, his right hand stroking his beard whilst his left hand produced an unstoppered bottle of whisky from a pocket. “… borrowing it! The brute’s master was nowhere to be seen. Abandoned in the street it was and to me it looked all the world like it needed some company. My company, in fact.”

As they arrived at the entrance to the mess hall, the other crew members greeted them with half-hearted waves and sleepy nods. Most of them were still nursing hangovers from the festivities of the past few days. This was understandable given the length of time they had been away on active duty. Cillian and the others took seats at the long table.

The mess hall of the ship was the primary social gathering area for the crew and served as both their dining room and recreation room. The walls were lined with indoor plants that overflowed from an abundance of pots. Some climbing plants had even managed to crawl across the ceiling, creating a foliage of greenery above. The plants’ leaves and flowers were a riot of colours, from bright greens to pinks, reds, purples, blues and yellows. The Boheme loved their plants, and for this reason, most Bohemian ships contained a large number of plants.

Cillian stole a sideways glance at Aislinn before slightly turning away to take a series of quick gulps from his hip flask. Mid gulp, Aislinn suddenly snatched the bottle from his grasp in a single lightning fast motion and proceeded to shake an index finger at him as her lips pursed and her eyebrows furrowed. In response, Cillian hissed at her and bared his teeth.

One of the other crew members, a female human in her early forties, pulled up a chair beside Toal. This was Saoirse Fay, the ship’s Engineering Officer. She had university degrees in Mechanical, Electrical and Combat Engineering and could disassemble and put back together just about any piece of equipment. Saoirse was of average height with a strong, muscular physique as a result of her heavy manual labour work and her regular practice of calisthenics and resistance training.

She was also an adept practitioner of Coraíocht, which was the ancient Irish practice of wrestling. Saoirse had skin the colour of dark rosewood, reddish-brown with warm orange-red undertones. She had not always been a Boheme, which explained her distinct skin colour. Most Boheme, having descended from the Irish Travellers, had fair to olive skin. Saoirse had applied to become a citizen when she was in her early twenties and had been a citizen of Bohemia for the past sixteen years and a member of the crew for the past ten years.

“At any rate,” continued Cillian. “The good-for-nothing Police Officer and owner of said ill-tempered equine monster was temporarily indisposed at the time that I happened to stumble upon the horse in the street.”

“Mmm, most indisposed,” said Toal mock seriously as he produced a large wooden pipe from his left breast pocket. His right hand then fished into a tobacco pouch at his right waist. Smoking tobacco from a pipe was one of Toal’s favourite pastimes. “Most indisposed indeed was our dear Police Officer. As I recall it, he was busy at the time trying to retrieve his weapon belt. The same weapon belt that you, Cillian, had somehow managed to wrangle from him and throw up in a nearby tree.”

“Lies, lies, lies,” said Cillian as he leaned back, the chair teetering back on its two back legs. He lifted his arms up above his head, cupped his hands behind his neck, and looked up at the ceiling. “No, no, no, the way I recall it, the Police Officer’s weapon belt was already up the tree when I came across him and his horse. He was futilely attempting to scale the tree — with very little success I might add, short useless legs that he had — and thus I had the brilliant idea that if I were to stand upon his horse, I might be able to reach the lower branches and thereby gain access to the otherwise entirely inaccessible tree.” Cillian surreptitiously lifted his left hand away from his neck and reached down his back to grasp a hidden hip flask.

“Ah, yes, you are correct,” said Toal in between puffing upon his pipe. Thick blue-grey smoke filled the air. “Now I recall, and it was during your well-intentioned attempt to stand upon the horse that it kicked you in the face?”

“Kicked?” cried Cillian as he suddenly leaned forward. “I was verily assaulted by the demon. If it had not been for my lightning reflexes and unparalleled agility I would likely be dead right now.” Cillian scoffed and casually took a swig of whisky from the bottle that had somehow appeared in his left hand when he had returned to a seated position.

“Lightning reflexes that still allowed you to get a full kick to the face?” Toal queried.

“Not full, my dear fellow,” said Cillian. “Merely a passing glance, a tickle, a whisper of wind upon my flesh.” Cillian reached up and gingerly touched the bruising around his eye. He winced in pain. “Nay, I call foul play! It was all some sort of elaborate trap designed to get me assaulted. The weapon belt in the tree, the lonely, innocent looking horse, the pathetically pleading mounted police officer. Entrapment. A conspiracy of sorts. Shrubbery and smoke.”

Cillian took another swig of the whisky and Aislinn took a swing for the bottle but this time Cillian rebuffed her attempt with his free hand. “Mounted Police Officer,” said Cillian, scoffing in disgust. “What an absurd title and what an even more absurd vocation. Learn to ride a bloody Airbike, I say!” yelled Cillian, his eyes bulging in the process.

“But you love horses,” said Toal.

“I do, very much in fact, but imagine trying to catch a criminal who is escaping in a spaceship whilst you are riding after them on horseback. Ridiculous!”

“So how was it that you managed to mount his horse in the end?” asked Toal, changing the subject. “That part I genuinely do not understand, despite having seen it happen with my own eyes. After having just been kicked in the head by the horse you somehow managed to mount the damn thing and then went on a wild horse race through the National Capital, all the while being chased by half the Danu Mounted Police Force.” Toal shook his head. “You should have seen the police officer’s face after you stole his horse and went galloping off.” Toal rumbled with laughter.

“Borrowed, dear fellow. Borrowed,” said Cillian. “But yes, after our initial disagreement, the horse and I made amends. I am a horse whisperer, after all. It is in my very blood.” Cillian was referring to the fact that the O’Tuathail Family were renowned horse breeders and horse racers. Cillian had never been particularly involved or interested in the horse breeding side of the Family’s economic affairs, despite the fact that they owned several large horse breeding farms. He had, however, enjoyed the horse riding side of things and had been a champion horse racer during his late teenage years.

“My, my, we flew that night…” Cillian cocked his head to the left and looked up at the wall, his eyes clouding over with fond recollection.

Toal chuckled softly and then pulled on his pipe.

“And how did you come to be naked?” asked Aislinn, her eyebrows arching and her head tilting slightly to one side.

“Ah, yes, well as to that, I do recall that the horse insisted upon it. It having no saddle or reins, it argued that it would only be fair if I were also naked.”

“You were riding it bareback? With no reins?” stammered Saoirse incredulously.

“Why, of course, that is the only proper way to ride a horse. None of that saddle and reins nonsense. So, naturally, being the considerate soul that I am, I obliged the horse in its request. I tore off my clothing, and we then took to the streets. We led the Mounted Police Corps on a merry chase.”

“How many psilocybin mushrooms had you consumed at that point in time?” asked Saoirse.

“Oh, hard to say, really. I never really stopped eating them, you see. The only thing I kept with me as I rode was my mushroom bag, which was tied around my neck. It was quite an experience, I must say. The city lights at night, the festival music being played at various locations, the smell of burning wood from all the ceremonial bonfires, the thrill of being chased. Ah, it was truly a euphoric experience.”

“And then you were arrested,” Aislinn said, looking pointedly at Cillian.

“My dear, I was not arrested,” said Cillian, shaking his head. “My good friends at the Police Department simply knew how tired I was and made their lovely sleeping quarters available for my use. Free of charge, too, I should add.”

“Sleeping quarters that were in a jail cell,” said Aislinn in a flat tone.

“Sleeping quarters nonetheless. Let us not quibble on the details, sweetest angel of mine.” Cillian smiled widely in what he hoped was an endearing manner. Noting her lack of response, Cillian squinted his eyes suspiciously and then began to slide his chair away from her whilst slowly, deliberately, bringing the bottle of whisky to his mouth. Anticipating an imminent snatch, he began to pre-emptively ward her off with his free hand, but the snatch was not forthcoming and Aislinn merely sighed and rolled her eyes. She then locked gazes with Toal, but Toal simply smiled and shrugged at her.

“Don’t think I don’t know that you are just as bad as he is, Toal,” said Aislinn. Toal feigned hurt, his brow furrowing as he pointed his pipe at himself as if to saywho me?. “Had another horse been available for you to ride, I am certain I would have been bailing out the two of you right this moment. As it was only Cillian was arrested, this time. The pair of you are as bad as each other and triply bad when Saoirse is added to the mix.”

“Hey don’t bring me into this,” complained Saoirse as she pulled absently at a thread in her clothes. Saoirse was perennially wearing a pair of stained dark blue overalls, which truth be told were more patches than original garment. Cillian was convinced that she never washed them, as she appeared to always be wearing the same pair of overalls. He had observed that she even wore them under her military armour. Saoirse found it amusing how much this concept bothered him and for this reason she had made the decision several years ago not to dispel him from his belief. The reality was that she had over a dozen pairs of different, albeit similar looking, patched overalls and changed them on a daily basis.

“I got tired of trying to keep up with those louts on the second day,” continued Saoirse. “Too much running around for me. Instead, I ended up finding myself a cute lass, and we shacked up together to investigate the more, how would you say, intimate —.”

“Right! We don’t need to hear about all that then,” interjected Aislinn loudly. “Tea? Who would like tea then?”

“Oh, yes, tea would be lovely, my dear,” chimed in Cillian

.