Unwrapping Miss Milky Way
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Praise for Candace Sams
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
A word about the author...
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Unwrapping
Miss Milky Way
by
Candace Sams
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Unwrapping Miss Milky Way
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Candace Sams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Faery Rose Edition, 2014
Print ISBN 978-1-62830-543-2
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-544-9
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Candace Sams
Candace Sams (also writing as C. S. Chatterly) has won over thirty reader/writer awards and is now movie optioned. She’s the author of over fifty fiction and non-fiction titles.
Dedication
For Lee and for everyone who looks to the stars.
Good reading to you.
My grateful thanks to Amy E. Salomon, Attorney, and to the makers of Mars MILKY WAY® brand for use of the title UNWRAPPING MISS MILKY WAY.
Chapter One
The future
The planet of Oceanus
There is no such thing as coincidence.
People are sometimes thrust into the oddest situations because Fate steps in. Sometimes it only takes the smallest act to change a life or even save one—a small act like walking across a room.
****
“Thank you, Miss Pleiades. That will be all.”
Datron Mann—formerly known on his home planet as Da’nequwit—got up and made his way to a nearby refreshment table for water and aspirin.
He’d used the name of Datron for the last two years, ever since he’d returned from an extremely bizarre mission to Earth. The first and surname seemed easier for most people to pronounce. Primarily, he’d kept the appellations because they’d reminded him of happier days with old friends. As time progressed and those escapades on Earth faded into memory, his joy of life paled.
Where was the adventure now? The spark? And someone exciting to share his life?
As to his headache, it kept him better company than almost anyone else these days.
He could take a number of curatives to rid himself of the pain pounding around his temples, but the old Earth tried-and-true method should prove to be the best for his Valkyrian constitution.
Aspirin had better work. If he had to interview one more beauty pageant contestant, he’d blow his damned head off with a tekion phaser.
In his life as a law enforcement officer for the Oceanun Protectorate, he’d endured torture, photon stuns, concussion grenades, knife wounds, and even poisonous darts delivered by Kratar warriors from the Abourcrombye Fytchkie sector of space. During that unfortunate instance, he’d been trying to subdue and incarcerate the Kratar leader for selling stolen archeological artifacts on the galactic black market. He’d barely escaped with his life.
Even with all those harrowing situations combined, interviewing the Miss Milky Way pageant contestants was a torment he might not survive. But he would persevere.
Gazing through the muted light of the Quasar Ballroom of the Lunar Hotel―both of which were located in the heart of Oceanus’ capitol city of Cetacea―Datron studied his friend, Gilla Eck’nor—also a judge.
Gilla was a typical denizen of the planet Silka. It, like Oceanus, was a watery world many times larger than most Class M planets. And like all those inhabitants from Silka, Gilla had the ability to breathe water, as well as air, by forcing fluid through gill-slits in the sides of his neck.
To give his aching head time to quit throbbing, Datron further studied Gilla’s pale, lanky frame, silvery eyes and bald head. All these rather wan features belied the man’s superior intellect and placid nature. Still, this particular intellectually advanced friend seemed to have a rather haggard look about his face when another contestant approached the Silkan’s, silver-framed judging booth.
To Gilla’s left, sat Clitus Gart, another solid friend and ally. In appearance, Clitus was the polar opposite of Gilla. Hailing from the forest planet of Arborea, he was a red-headed, body-building bruiser. Clitus’ massive musculature and sometimes brusque attitude hid a very lovable heart.
Datron grimaced as both Clitus and Gilla pinched the bridges of their noses with their index fingers and thumbs—they, like him, were sharing massive headaches.
Being a guest judge, in the personal interview portion of the contest, could be one of the hardest things Datron ever did. This included being forced to eat raw gag worms from the planet Hurlius and the detestable Pluto Pillow Mints whose corporate owner was a co-sponsor for the Miss Milky Way pageant.
Perusing the lovely but vapid women surrounding him, Datron tried to guess if any of the various females present would make an intellectually stimulating mate. He’d finally reached that time in his existence when such things occurred to him on a regular basis.
At the age of thirty-three, he dreamed of coming home to a large family where warmth and joviality abounded. But he’d rip out his own spleen before seriously considering shallow parasites like those vying for the title in this year’s contest.
To be brutally frank, he wished to be anywhere else but here. His conscience vexed him because he couldn’t seem to score these women equitably. One woman, a beguilingly green creature of great height and breast size, had gazed at him with the most gorgeous orange eyes. She’d then proceeded to tell him that her life’s pursuit was collecting teapots from Earth.
Another woman from Sigil—a sister planet to his home world of Valkyrie—had sat in all her golden-haired, be-winged glory and relayed her turn-ons. For one thing, she loved brawny men like him. But her turn offs consisted of an entire list of petty subjects such as breaking nails, shoes that didn’t match her other accessories, and having her stylist color her long glowing locks the wrong shade of antique gold.
He sighed and prayed none of them had the audacity to breed.
Someone cleared their throat. He turned to find Electra Galaxy―owner and promoter of the Mr. Interstellar Feller male beauty pageant conglomerate―just behind him. The tall, regal woman’s presence made him smile. Elegant as always with her platinum hair perfectly quaffed, her svelte figure filling out a shimmering white evening
gown to perfection, she was easily the most gorgeous woman in the entire room. Older than him by far, he appreciated beauty like hers at any stage of life. Moreover, he appreciated her intelligence.
Of all the females present, Electra’s business acumen was astounding. She also held the position of supervisor within the ranks of the Earth Force Protectorate—though few others were privy to this information. Because of his rank within the Oceanus Enforcement Agency, he was one of the few who knew her other occupation.
To the worlds-at-large, Electra was a male pageant diva who’d done spectacularly well for herself. To him, she was one hell of a good undercover law enforcer.
“Hello, Electra. How’s the judging going at your end of the universe?” he quipped, a bit dry in tone, while nodding toward the far side of the ballroom.
Electra kept her gaze on the contestants while responding. “I must admit, when I accepted this judging offer, I’d hoped to merge the Miss Milky Way consortium with my own Mr. Interstellar Feller enterprise. But I don’t see that happening. I hate to say this, but the ladies this year are rather—”
Datron held up one hand to stop her. “I know. I just interviewed fifteen of them. I won’t say what you’re thinking.”
Electra patted her hair in place and pursued the subject. “If the men who enter this year’s Mr. Interstellar Feller pageant are as hapless, I’ll give up the pageant business altogether. Sponsors have made enormous offers to buy me out, but I keep remembering the time you were first runner-up in my contest. We had a hell of a good year afterward, while you and the other winners occupied my apartment building on Earth. We were all one big happy family.”
Datron lowered his voice and moved closer to the woman. “You, uh, are only on Oceanus to guest-judge the Miss Milky Way contestants, aren’t you, Electra? You know, as an enforcer working out of your jurisdiction, you’d be subjected to felony charges if you’re up to anything covert. I couldn’t help you if you got caught on some mission Oceanus officials never knew about or approved. This world may have opened boundaries to tourists and businessmen, but officials here won’t stomach an Earth law enforcer muscling in on their turf.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! There are no covert ops that I know about. Certainly nothing approved by Earth agencies,” she assertively told him. “I’m here because the entire rest of the galaxy thinks, as a pageant sponsoring diva, I actually know something about judging beauty. Of course, the hordes of women we’ve seen tonight are the loveliest if most simple-minded creatures I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. I’m actually embarrassed to be standing among them.”
“Well…I think I’ve been able to keep my scores fairly balanced, if not as open-minded as desired.” Datron sighed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “But I’ve got a headache that won’t stop.”
Electra patted his shoulder. “I don’t think what ails you is your judging responsibilities. Gilla and Clitus tell me you’ve been working incredibly hard lately. You’re not exactly the same, carefree Valkyrian you were on Earth.”
“Yeah…well…being a captain has had a somewhat maturing effect on me.” He stepped aside to let a blue-haired girl get to the refreshment table. She’d bumped into him rather abruptly, as if she couldn’t see someone his size standing in a place where she could have easily avoided his body. He simply glared at the woman’s tiny retreating backside, then grabbed up another bottle of water to take back to his judging booth. “Thankfully, tonight’s the last time I’ll have to do this,” he stoically told her. “My obligations as a former runner-up in the Mr. Interstellar Feller conglomeration will be finished. Once Miss Milky Way…whoever she ends up being…is crowned tomorrow night, I’m done with pageants of any kind.”
“They’re a reminder of what you’re missing,” she joked. “Still looking for the right girl?”
He laughed. “You know me too well.” Then he paused and considered how to answer her question. “I haven’t found the girl of my dreams. And I certainly won’t find her here. But…I’ll keep looking.”
“I think, in some ways, you’ve changed since I met you two years ago. I’m speaking about more than your law enforcement responsibilities.”
“How so?” Datron asked in surprise.
“You used to smile often. Since arriving on Oceanus, I’ve rarely seen you crack a joke or laugh at one—though Clitus and Gilla keep trying.”
Datron lowered his gaze and thought for a long moment. “I’ll have to be more careful how I present myself. I’m not as depressed as you’re making me sound, Electra.” He grimaced then shook his head as one of the pageant managers gestured to him. “I think the next contestant is ready to be interviewed. Damn me to the end of the universe and back, I’ve another ten women to score!” He took her hand, kissed the back of it, and winked. “See you later.”
****
Charlotte Grayson sat in her judging booth, tamping down ire.
She tried to keep it from showing on her face as the black-and-white spotted girl sitting in front of her tried to stem her crying. This particular contestant hailed from Clovidia. Like all of her fellow citizens, the girl had kind, dark eyes and was reputedly quite docile. Despite her bovine head and the tendency to chew a cud at the most inappropriate moments, the woman deserved better than the behavior to which she’d been subjected. There was no doubt in her mind that the events as described had happened. She’d just heard eight more contestants detail the very same treatment. Even though there were so many ladies vying to be Miss Milky Way, a lot of them knew each other relatively well. That being the case, there was more than enough verification for the accusations. Sour grape gossip couldn’t have caused this much turmoil.
“Now, now Buttercup…don’t burst an udder over this,” she crooned. “I’m sure things can’t possibly be that bad.”
“But they are,” Buttercup weepingly replied. “They’ve been horrible to me all week. Especially that big winged Valkyrian. And I don’t understand why. It’s almost as if he’s targeted me. And I spent my last salt lick getting to Oceanus for this competition. I-I knew I wouldn’t win. I’m a bit…puffy…at this time of the month. Eating certain foods always does that to me,” she waived one hoof and smirked. “I-I couldn’t resist the little bean pods, the lentils, the carrots, and the turnips at last night’s buffet. It was simply scrumptious.”
Then she gathered her thoughts again. “But back to the point at hand… I at least wanted to make a good showing for my home world. It’s just a minuscule pasture planet, and I’m their first contestant ever. I was just crowned Miss Ruminant,” she proudly boasted. “But when I approached his booth, Captain Mann sat there rolling his eyes and rubbing his brow as if every word I said inflicted pain. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist like you to figure out he just didn’t like me. And I hadn’t even really begun my interview. He had no reason to act the way he did, I tell you. No reason at all. I mean…where’s the love?”
Charlie—as the contestants and all her friends called her—patted the woman’s brown, hoofed appendage as it lay on the white marble tabletop. Then she reached in her booth for a provided pack of tissues and handed them to the big heifer. When she realized the bovine, be-horned female would have trouble opening them with her cloven limbs, she quickly did the honors for her and handed the girl the necessary tissue to stem her big, crystal-sized tears.
“Look, you’re almost through with the competition,” Charlie placated. “You’ve only got one more night. Why not go join the other ladies who’ve finished their interviews and get a good stiff drink…maybe a cud-and-tonic?”
“All right, Charlie…I’ll do as you ask,” Buttercup sniffed heavily. “You’re the fairest judge here. Even Electra Galaxy―the Mr. Interstellar Feller pageant diva herself―isn’t being all that kind. You’d think she’d understand, being a female herself. But all she does is peddle man-flesh in her pageants. She probably cares more for them than her own gender!” She glared at Electra while flipping her bovine ears back and forth in an agita
ted fashion. “At any rate, what’s to be done about those three men? I heard the Arborean and the Silkan weren’t quite so inhospitable. They at least acted as if they were trying to listen to some of the girls’ interview material. But that captain of theirs…that…that insensitive winged, overgrown firefly. Of all the judges here, he’s the most insufferably, arrogant, fly-swatting male I’ve ever run across.”
“Um…Buttercup…you might not want to be telling me all this,” Charlie whispered.
“No! It needs to be said.” Buttercup drew herself up and lifted her heavy head in indignation. “Once during my interview, I thought Datron Mann was actually going to gag. He made a choking sound and put his hand over his mouth. Can you imagine?”
Charlie opened her eyes wide and stared at the woman across the table. “Good Lord! What could you have said to make him do such a thing?”
“When he asked me what my talent was, I told him I was going to eat a big mouthful of stinkweed, lay on my back and fart to the tune of Old MacDonald…uh, that’s a very ancient children’s Earth tune,” Buttercup supplied as she nodded.
Charlie stared at her a long moment before replying. She did her best not to smile. Buttercup’s accusation wasn’t the first she’d heard—even if the conversation was a bit infantile. “Uh…well…that’s certainly…original. Perhaps Captain Mann was just stunned by your…unique…talent.”
Buttercup continued with her tirade. “No, that wasn’t it at all. He’s just like all the big, bronzed megalithic body builders from his world. They think they’re so special! The worst of it is, he was a contestant in the Mr. Interstellar Feller contest and took first runner-up to Keir Trask. You’d think he’d be more accommodating to women doing the same thing. I mean, it’s a chance to advance ourselves, isn’t it?”
“Well, it certainly helped me,” Charlie admitted. “But let’s try to put this into context—”
“Context nothing.” Buttercup lashed out. “Why I’d like to get him inside my paddock alone. I’d have someone give him a red rag to wave and I’d teach him a thing or two about how to treat women. Maybe he wouldn’t act so sanctimonious with one of my horns up his—”