Main Page: The War
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Previous: Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
“Hey,” said Jamillika.
Alicia looked up in surprise. “Hey,” she said back. “Uh, come on in, I guess.”
Jamillika did so. “Watcha doin’?”
“Just – thinking.” She had in fact been thinking quite a bit about all of the terrible and disconcerting stuff that had been going on lately, but didn’t think she needed to burden her new friend with that. “Why don’t you sit down?” she said, gesturing to the foot of the bed.
Jamillika, on the other hand, could plainly see that something was wrong, and wanted to help, because helping people made her feel good. But she knew better than to downright ask and instead decided to carefully find her way around the situation first. “Great ship,” she said as she sat down.
“Yeah,” agreed Alicia. “Doesn’t look like much, but she’s all right.”
“Mmm.” Jamillika was confused about the gender pronoun she being used to describe an inanimate object but assumed it was her who was simply mistaken. “How’d you end up here?”
“Same way you did, I guess.”
“Mmm.” Dead end. Try another tactic.
“They taught you English, then?”
“Mmm? No, Kaycee did. Your robot, right?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know he could do that. I’ve just realized I don’t know much about him at all. And it worries me.”
“Me too, but there are more important things to worry about. Earlier, while you were asleep –”
“Yes?”
Jamillika grabbed her proverbial throat, having just realized that telling Alicia about General Vox would complicate things and worry her unnecessarily. But what to say? Something truthful that worked in context… “Zickle has – uh, how you say, a crush on you?” Well, maybe he doesn’t want her to know that, but at least it’s not a lie.
“What?” Alicia was jarred out of her moping for good. “Are you sure you mean to say –”
“Dog lust. Inflammation. Something of that general variety.”
Puppy love – infatuation – “I never would have guessed!”
“Indeed. It is in his eyes.” That was a close one.
“This is just – do you think I should go after him?”
That was the last thing Jamillika had expected to hear. “Why?” she wondered. “He has done nothing wrong; why punish him?”
Alicia chose to see it as a genuine translation issue and not an insult. “I mean try to start a relationship,” she said. “My – last one didn’t go so well.”
“Mmm. Kaycee told us.”
“He did? I am going to disassemble that clunking heap with a crowbar, you see if I don’t! Ooh…”
“I’m sorry,” said Jamillika.
“Never mind, let’s just forget that stupid robot for a while. I’m sick of him. Right, about Zickle.”
“Go for it.”
“I’m not generally into aliens… and his table manners, using the word ‘table’ loosely, leave a bit to be desired. But he seems nice. I dunno, maybe a little flirting around, and then, who knows?”
“Who knows, indeed?”
“And you…” Alicia gazed thoughtfully at her new friend. “How are you?” she asked.
“I am fine, thanks.”
“And with the guys, too? I mean what about Kahlo? You made eyes at him.”
“‘Made eyes?’”
“You know, like this…” Alicia tried to imitate. Jamillika burst out laughing and when Alicia caught sight of her own reflection in the smudged mirror, so did she.
“Do I really look like that?” said Jamillika, wiping her eyes.
“Only around him,” twittered Alicia. “I’m just messing with you, Jamie, that was an exaggeration. But it’s pretty accurate.”
“For you as well.”
“Hey, but that’s just the estrogen showing. You’ve got real feelings for him.”
Jamillika wondered how the subject had come to this and why the subject kept coming to this. She didn’t want to think about it. But if she expected Alicia to confide in her, she had to do the same. And she still couldn’t tell a lie. “Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps.”
“Well, you’ve got your own culture thing going, and you’re wiser than me anyway, so I’ll leave you to it. But he likes you too. Think about that.”
“If you only knew, child. I am not wise…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I simply do not know things.” There was only so much confiding she could do in a day, and admitting her situation at the palace could take weeks. Instead she posed a question that was as much philosophical as it was intended to tighten her grasp on this slippery English language: “For instance: what constitutes ‘real’ feelings?”
“Heck, I don’t know. Not dog lust or inflammation.” She giggled.
Jamillika didn’t see why. “This is serious,” she said. “I don’t want to discourage you from – uh, how you say, going after him, but keep it as comestibles for cogitation.”
“Food for thought?”
“That’s what I said. You see, that’s the reason I personally am going to not go after Kahlo for the time being. Love is a word that has been overused and misused to death in your language, but in mine it still means something. So I do not want to risk hurt feelings until I am sure that is what we have. Besides – I am busy. I have far too much else to worry about.”
“And me too, but that’s why it doesn’t matter!” said Alicia ecstatically. “We’re in very real danger here. It hasn’t really dawned on me yet, but when it has, I’m sure I’ll be happy to go after Zick! Life is short, Jamie, sister, you have to grab it by the horns!”
Jamillika shook her head. “Are we talking about the same thing? Is life some sort of animal?”
“It’s a metaphor. I mean you have to use your time as well as you can because you don’t know how much is left!”
Which reminded Jamillika that she should be going and figure out her next course of action, as far as saving her planet and everything. “Well,” she said, “that’s why us girls have to stick together, don’t we?”
Alicia couldn’t have agreed more. They shook on it. She noticed suddenly that Jamillika’s eyes were violet, and thought they were very pretty. If only people had that variety back home.
After Jamillika left she considered the prospect of a lasting friendship. It sent pangs through her heart, as she thought of her old friends; like ditzy Cynthia Durmount, whom she had spoken to mere hours ago; mischievous twins Jill and Julie Benson; sheepish Nicole Turner; fearless Haley Martin; illiterate Darby Stillsworth… she stopped there, unable to bear moving on. They were all gone now, forever, as well as her boyfriend and her whole family.
She thought of her own parting words to Jamillika: You have to use your time as well as you can because you don’t know how much is left.
That had always been true, she realized; always had been and always would be for anybody who ever lived. Even so, then dwelling on such a catastrophic past for a while would have almost always been excusable, but not now. She needed to move on.
Still…
She had to know for certain, first… see with her own eyes…
Alicia pushed a pile of moldy underwear and three incredibly rare back issues of “Modern Mogtroid” off of the computer terminal she had noticed earlier but not cared about. Pausing to collect herself, and bracing for the crushing despair she knew she would find, she said, “Computer, please search for recent news items featuring Gragalla.”
“Done,” it said. “I think I know which one you want to see, Mistress Parkinson.”
She shrugged resignedly. “Show it, then,” she said.
A hologram of text appeared on the wall. It said “Wegbert’s Late Night Live” and, in much smaller letters underneath, “Well, obviously, it’s not live anymore, but it was when it was originally broadcast, honest. Just bear with us.” Beneath that in yet smaller letters was added, “English translation courtesy of yours truly (the computer).” Applause started as a deep voice boomed, “Welcome welcome welcome, to Wegbert’s Late Night Live!”
The scene shifted to a stage in a packed auditorium, where a short, spike-headed yellow reptile grinned and waved enthusiastically at the audience. “Hey-o,” he said in a charismatic sultry voice, “nice to see you all again! As you all know, I’m your host, Wilbum Wegbert, and tonight –”
“Want me to just skip to the relevant segment?” asked the computer.
“Yes, please,” said Alicia. No point in building up suspense.
The scene shifted, and Wegbert was suddenly lounging comfortably in a custom-fit easy chair across from another chair which was, apparently, empty.
“And of course,” he was saying, “you all know Gragalla, the disgrace of the Milky Way!”
A round of boos and otherwise disapproving noises went up from the audience.
“What’s that?” said Wegbert. “I can’t hear you!”
The noises came again, louder.
“Beg pardon? I’m not as young as I once was, you know –”
The roar this time was deafening, and the computer had to adjust the volume so poor Alicia’s eardrums weren’t blown out.
“My sentiments exactly,” said Wegbert. “So, yeah, to recap, it was attacked by the Skreel earlier today, as seen in my other shows ‘Wegbert’s Early Morning Live’ and ‘Wegbert’s Mid-Afternoon Live’. Nobody rightly knows why because it seems to have no strategic importance, but nobody’s complaining because they totally deserved it. Even though no one wants to help the people, there are still the animals and it’s not their fault, so of course some conservationists came around eventually to see what they could salvage, but as it turns out –” he held his breath and let a hush fall over the crowd “– they were no longer necessary.”
Alicia felt tears coming to her eyes. “Enough,” she said.
“Wait,” said the computer.
She wondered if it had been talking with Kaycee. But she waited.
“And that is because,” Wegbert continued, “an incredible and completely unforeseen turn of events has saved the planet from certain destruction. The native dominant species, which had not been seen since its apparent extinction over three hundred years ago, made a surprise reappearance today. With them they carried the cold virus that caused this apparent extinction. You know” he lowered his voice jokingly, “that Leonard J. Smith fiasco they don’t like to talk about?”
“I never heard about that,” said Alicia in surprise.
“That’s because they don’t like to talk about it,” said the computer.
“Anyway,” Wegbert went on, “this virus has evolved considerably since then. In a totally unprecedented happenstance, it wiped out not only all of the Skreel ground forces but the crew of their blockade high above the planet. What is so extraordinary about this virus, aside from the fact that it has achieved the impossible? Well, to show you, I have with me one of its spokespersons right here. Please welcome welcome welcome – Harvey!”
The camera shifted to the empty seat, amidst thunderous applause. Alicia was speechless. Could it be –? No, it couldn’t – could it?
“Thanks, Wegbert,” said the empty seat, or “Harvey.” “I’m glad to be here.”
“We’re glad to have you,” said Wegbert. “Although I hope you’re not still contagious!” The audience didn’t respond much to that one, so he cued a laugh track.
“No worries,” said Harvey. “We’ve become enlightened, and now we have better things to do than invade people’s bodies and reproduce.”
“But you still can, if you so choose.”
“Well, yeah. I don’t think we’ll ever lose that. It’s a great skill.”
“What made you want to save a planet nobody liked?”
“I like it. It’s my home. And, come on, cut them a little slack. A lot of the people aren’t so bad, only stupid and misguided. Barring those, there are still the ‘natives,’ as you call them. They call themselves the Straks. Excuse me. All they really want is to live in peace and be left alone.”
“And did they know about The War?”
“Not until it came to them. Now they’re only too happy to participate.”
“So have you been with them all these years?”
“Yes, although I wasn’t sentient the whole time. They became immune to us and then we evolved to live in harmony. It was a great life. I don’t want to divulge much else, because they still want to keep as much privacy as they can.”
“But of course. And you mentioned the other people, the ones who give Gragalla such a bad name. How much have you interacted with them?”
“Oh not much, not much at all. It was only a few years ago that I left home to scout around and see what was still out there. I came across this little girl, about three or four years old at the time, and her name was Gina Parkinson. Brilliant, adorable kid. Just for fun I decided to be her invisible friend, since she still had the imagination for that sort of thing.”
“Gina!” yelled Alicia. “Say more about Gina! Where is she? What’s happened?”
“The others I stayed well away from,” Harvey continued. “Her parents, not a chance. She had an older sister, name of Alicia – whoa there. No imagination at all. Bitter, cynical, aged before her time. She talked to a teddy bear but more for stress relief than anything. Her boyfriend hung around all the time but he was just stupid. For a while they had a pet traktop named Fred, and he was pretty cool. He didn’t quite know what was going on with me, but animals can sense things.”
Alicia was stunned into silence. She didn’t know what to make of this assessment. It did sound plausible enough.
“And you stayed there?” asked Wegbert.
“Until now, yeah. We’re basically immortal so I didn’t worry about getting back home quickly. I never thought much about The War because no one else did, except Alicia of course, and I already said what that did to her. But when the Skreel invaded I had to act. I defended Gina and her mom, and then I hightailed it back home to sound the alarm. And then we kicked their shiny carapaced rumps. The end.”
“That truly is an inspiring story,” said Wegbert. “So next time a young relative goes on about an invisible friend, think twice before you dismiss it as child’s play, huh?” He winked at the camera. Again he decided to cue the laugh track.
“Right,” said Harvey, “otherwise don’t be surprised if you get sick.” That got a decidedly bigger reaction from the audience.
“Thank you for being here,” said Wegbert, fumbling around in the air for Harvey’s hand.
“Thank you for having me,” said Harvey.
“See you around (heh, heh – eh). Next up, does Hylo M’luj really have chin implants?”
The hologram switched off. Alicia blinked at the sudden relative darkness.
“Well,” she said.
“Well, how…” she said.
“Well how about that?” she spurted out at last.
“I say yes, definitely,” said the computer. “They are just not natural, dudette.”
“What? No! I mean, what about Gina? What about mom? What about all my friends? Are they alive or dead!?”
“I don’t know,” said the computer sadly. “I’ll tell you as soon as I find out anything.”
“Thank you.” If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn the computer actually cared about her predicament. Empathizing with machines was an easy mistake to make sometimes, and a comforting one as well. She had never tried to stop herself.
“Were you happy to see it, though?”
“Yes,” she said, “yes, thank you.” She felt part of her recent burden lifting. “What a crazy turn of events. I wouldn’t have expected it in a million years.”
“Me neither,” said a voice from the doorway, “and my years are twice yours.”
Alicia twisted around so fast she nearly got whiplash. She wasn’t at home anymore; shouldn’t nosy bedroom spies be a thing of the past?
It was Buckton. “Oh, hi,” she said. Jamillika must have left the door ajar.
He stepped in further but didn’t seem to have heard her. “Wildest thing,” he continued. “And a darn shame.”
And now she saw that it wasn’t really Buckton, that it looked like Buckton, it sounded like Buckton; but his eyes were full of darkness. Pure hatred radiated off every inch of his flesh. It wasn’t directed at her, but inevitably some glanced off her and chilled her to the bone with its impact.
“Er, what?” she said. “You don’t hate Gragalla that much…”
He crossed the room and picked up a small metal orb of some sort. He stared into its reflective surface, focusing all of the hatred into it. Alicia more than half expected to see it shatter under the impact.
“…do you?”
He tossed the orb aside and looked at her. But she could tell he wasn’t really seeing her, that the room may as well have been empty. Only her words had penetrated his trance:
“It isn’t that,” he said.
Alicia waited patiently for him to continue.
“It isn’t that at all,” he said.
This could take a while.
“I don’t hate Gragalla,” he said. “I don’t give a norchak’s bum about it either way. It isn’t that.”
“No?” she said.
“It’s those strakking Skreel demons!” he howled.
She recoiled from his breath and stared in horror. She remembered how easily he had picked her up and knew that if he started freaking out she was in trouble.
“Vicious, mindless hellspawn. Bastard hybrids of evil and more evil. They all died. One entire fleet – gone. That talking disease killed them all.”
Alicia knew she should keep her mouth shut, but her brain still had trouble with these things sometimes. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” she said.
He narrowed his eyes at her in a way she would never forget. “It should have been me,” he said.
He turned around and marched up the corridor.
***
Marching up corridors never helped General Vox a whole lot, but it was about the only thing it could do. Having already executed half of the bridge crew it didn’t seem the best of ideas to get rid of any more. Fool, it thought. I should have held out for a moment like this. They always come.
It considered executing some other group, but decided against that too. They would all be needed soon enough, if Buckton and Zick were to live up to their reputations. And it knew they would.
“You called, sir?”
It turned and stared at its Chief Thinker. It wanted to pause menacingly for a while and instill a sense of terror in the mouthy underling, but couldn’t restrain itself for that long. “Yes, I did,” it snapped, “and I think you know why. Gragalla. What happened there?”
The Thinker shrugged. “An unforeseen incident.”
“You should have foreseen it! That is your job!”
“My job, if you remember, is to dispose of Buckton and Zick. That’s still going to happen. What’s a planet more or less? I’m sorry, but if you make me share your obsession with rubbing out two individuals like this it’s going to occupy a lot of my time.”
“No, it’s your pet project! You’ve let it become too high of a priority and it’s affecting the quality of your performance, just as I told you it would!”
“Nonsense. Everything is going perfectly well.”
“An entire fleet is lost! Balvador is spared! Your plan is ruined!”
“No, my plan is going fine. Balvador and Ypiupi were always a bonus, remember?” It smirked at the stupidity of its boss, and then smirked at the fact that its boss could do nothing to punish it for making fun of its stupidity. “Besides, I told you before I’m a master of improvisation. It may interest you to know that they’re flying right into another trouble spot and they may be dead before we have to deal with them again.”
“You truly believe that?”
“No, but it’s a possibility. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Everything is under control.” It turned to go, confident in the truthfulness of its words.
“Wait!” snapped Vox. “That doesn’t change what’s happened at Gragalla! What do you intend to do about that?”
“Gragalla’s no great loss, you know that. We’ll have this whole Universe sterilized eventually and it makes little difference what order the planets go in. As for this incredible virus, I’ll have a vaccine in a couple hours. When it takes to the stars after us, we’ll be ready.”
“I’m warning you,” said Vox, “don’t fail me.”
“For the final time, I won’t,” said the Chief Thinker. “And you can stop trying to be all scary like that. You look like a total dork.” It turned and left.
Seething with rage, General Vox weighed its options and considered the pros and cons of each. A short time later, in parts unknown to mankind, a Skreel supply officer was shocked but hardly surprised to receive a requisition for a new flagship bridge crew.
***
Zick was waiting for Buckton, eyes wide and trembling. “Easy, dude, you must have scared the skin off her,” he said. He pulled out an entire pack of gum. “Here,” he said, proffering it.
Buckton dumped it into his mouth, box and all, and chewed vigorously. After a moment some of the hatred left his eyes and he looked around as if seeing the interior of his spaceship for the first time.
“Man,” he said, “that was epic!”
“You’ll feel better once we get some chow into you,” said Zick, “come on.” They headed for the bridge.
“I just don’t know what came over me,” said Buckton, “It was like being possessed or –”
“Shh!” said Zick. “Just a minute!”
They listened at the door for a moment. They could hear voices. One of them was Kaycee’s. “…so I said, ‘Reboot her? I just met her!’”
The other was that of the ship’s computer. “Oh man, seriously? I wouldn’t have dared!”
“Yeah, but get this. Her power couplings were an older model, from before they passed that Tristran conformity act, you know? And I had the wrong sort of adapter for them, so when I tried to –”
Buckton and Zick chose that moment to walk in, hoping to catch Kaycee in an awkward silence. It worked. Kaycee looked embarrassed, insofar as it is possible for a robot to look embarrassed. Zick decided to savor the moment.
“I thought robots were technically gender-neutral,” he said.
“I’ll make you ‘gender-neutral’ if you say a word about this to anyone,” said Kaycee. So much for awkward silences.
“Never mind that,” admonished Buckton, “let’s just get out of hyperspace and find a place to eat, preferably orbital. Oh, and fuel us up. That too. Same place.”
“Yes, sir,” said the computer. “Sorry Kaycee, I can do this one myself.”
“Hmph.” He turned away from the console. “If this was breakfast, I’d say Dargald’s . I don’t care how far away it is. But for lunch or dinner I’ve no opinion either way.”
“Hang on, when have you eaten?” demanded Zick.
“Gustation sensor prototype experimentation.”
“Do we even have time for this?” said Buckton.
“Beats me. I don’t know what’s going on any more than I told you, okay? I’d say to play it safe, we shouldn’t stop, but –”
“Screw that,” said Buckton. “No one can expect us to save the universe on empty stomachs. It’s unheard of.”
“Meh. Food? Pitiful organic beings.”
***
“Out of curiosity, um… that nightgown in my cabin, is it a traditional garment on your homeworld?”
“I don’t know,” said Zick, averting his gaze. “I don’t remember my homeworld. And I never knew my parents.”
“Oh…” Alicia felt like a monster. “I didn’t mean – I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s cool.”
Nonetheless, she felt that she had completely blown the situation already. She started to walk away.
“There’s one in each, y’see.” He looked into her eyes as if to say, Don’t leave. “Nightgowns in cabins, I mean. I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along all my life.”
She looked at those teeth again, and shuddered.
“Besides,” he continued sheepishly, “I like to wear ‘em myself sometimes. I love the way they softly caress my… skin.”
“It is nice,” she admitted.
“And the air circulation…!”
“Zickle, my friend,” said Buckton, “never say that again. Hey, guys,” he added as he flipped on the ship’s intercom, “we’re popping in somewhere for a bite. Get ready ‘cause after that who knows what will happen.” He turned it off and gave Zickle a meaningful look. “Just never say that again,” he repeated.
Zickle looked away. “Well, I have stuff to do,” he said. “See ya.”
He walked across the bridge to his pilot’s chair.
“I’m still right here,” said Alicia, somewhat put out.
“Yeah, I mean, I have stuff to do that desperately requires being left alone. Important spaceship stuff.”
Alicia started to say something but Kaycee grabbed her arm and maneuvered her into the corner. “What the snap are you doing!?” he demanded.
She was bewildered at his apparent fury. “Just making the proverbial lemonade.”
“Girl, you’re making cyanide. You don’t understand fully what’s going on here. It’s over your head.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
“Personal matters. Just trust me on this, okay?”
“I’m already trusting you to lead us somewhere you don’t know for some reason we don’t know instead of helping bring aid to the Queen! I think that’s enough and if you insist on trying to ruin what little fun I can have under these circumstances something has to give!”
“Everything’s always about you, isn’t it? Always has been! ‘Poor me, I’m so depressed. I can’t change anything so instead of coping I think I’ll mope like I’m perpetually on the rag. Kaycee, cheer me up. Oh no, someone’s saving my insignificant life and I don’t want him to because he smells funny. Oh no, I have to leave home instead of dying. Kaycee, cheer me up. Oh no, my family that I never gave a snap about is –”
“KC-1138, you shut your strakking metal mouth!” she screamed, causing Buckton and Zick to look up from their own argument and stare at her.
As luck would have it Hok Tubok chose that moment to burst onto the bridge. He did this in quite a literal going-through-midair sense of the word and augmented it with an impressive series of flips before sliding to a halt inches from the dashboard.
“Hey, Buckton, dude, how was that?” he asked.
Buckton shrugged. “Not half bad,” he said. “Of course I would recommend putting music to it.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan, man, but it ain’t going so hot. These boobs I’m working with cannot focus.”
“These whats?” demanded Jamillika who was just walking in with Kahlo in tow.
“Slang expression!” Kaycee hastily informed her. “Means idiotic simpletons, which they are.”
She subconsciously clutched at her own chest in shock. “Why would your language do such a thing?”
“When we have a few vacation days available, I’ll tell you why that is the least of human problems.”
“Excuse me –”
“Earthling humans. Not you.”
“Look,” said Hok, who had been patiently trying to speak with Buckton and was consistently being thwarted in these attempts by the rising voices behind him, “it’s out of context and meaningless to my species so deal, okay? Now whose brilliant idea was it to teach this chick to talk?”
“Do I look like a baby bird to you?” she demanded.
“If,” shouted Buckton, “everyone would kindly take a moment’s pause from this delightfully intelligent and edifying conversation, I would point out to them that we’re arriving at a restaurant and it is time to eat. And Hok, don’t use that word anymore. I find it offensive too.”
“Which one? Never mind,” he added quickly, “let’s just get on with whatever we’re doing. I’ll stay on the ship. Me and the gang aren’t eating a crumb until those idiotic simpletons have gotten every last note down pat.”
“Hok, I don’t think you realize what’s going on here. We don’t know the next time we’ll be able to eat.”
“You don’t think I realize that? I’m starving, man, but we have to remember our priorities and this is art! For instance, we’re working on this – special project, and we haven’t even reached the bridge!”
“You’re on the bridge, why couldn’t the others make it?” wondered Jamillika.
Hok stared at her, and then left in a huff, which she thought was unnecessarily rude of him. She found herself beginning to wish she could exercise her authority as a Queen here and put ingrates like him in her place. But that was her sister’s philosophy and she warned herself sternly to avoid going anywhere near there at all costs.
They all stared at the restaurant coming up. It was a large floating platform with a shack and adjoining warehouse on it. Both buildings were quite run-down and dilapidated but in this respect they were certainly preferable to having been blown to atoms, which did not frequently befall floating restaurants on account of their being such trivial targets but befell them often enough to dissuade others from staying in business. The only thing on this one that hinted at a high level of technology, aside from the fact that it was floating through space, was the huge neon orange sign that read, in a bizarre alien script none of the passengers except Kaycee knew, “Gumble’s Yum-bles”. Unfortunately half of the letters were burned out and the remaining ones coincidentally read, in a different and fortunately more obscure bizarre alien script, “Our food contains live parasites that will make mincemeat of your bowels”. This was of course entirely untrue but whatever hell the proprietors would have to pay when someone fluent in that script finally arrived was apparently cheaper than replacing the darn bulbs.
Only a few ships of disparate origin were scattered about the parking lot, being refueled and repaired and refurbished by as many types of rusty dented-up robots. A few looked up distractedly at the approach of the Ankled Apex and one waved, carelessly welding its other arm to a ship’s hull in the process. Another robot appeared to be yelling at it for its foolishness, but the first one was not to blame. It had been modeled a bit too closely after organic behavior and was thus willing to do anything to avoid work.
“Chow time,” muttered Buckton to himself. He glanced sidelong at Zick. “And if certain things continue, there’s going to be something else on the menu.”
“Will you lay off?” demanded Zick, but he looked at his barbecue sauce and involuntarily licked his lips.
Next: Chapter Nine (Unfinished)
Alicia looked up in surprise. “Hey,” she said back. “Uh, come on in, I guess.”
Jamillika did so. “Watcha doin’?”
“Just – thinking.” She had in fact been thinking quite a bit about all of the terrible and disconcerting stuff that had been going on lately, but didn’t think she needed to burden her new friend with that. “Why don’t you sit down?” she said, gesturing to the foot of the bed.
Jamillika, on the other hand, could plainly see that something was wrong, and wanted to help, because helping people made her feel good. But she knew better than to downright ask and instead decided to carefully find her way around the situation first. “Great ship,” she said as she sat down.
“Yeah,” agreed Alicia. “Doesn’t look like much, but she’s all right.”
“Mmm.” Jamillika was confused about the gender pronoun she being used to describe an inanimate object but assumed it was her who was simply mistaken. “How’d you end up here?”
“Same way you did, I guess.”
“Mmm.” Dead end. Try another tactic.
“They taught you English, then?”
“Mmm? No, Kaycee did. Your robot, right?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know he could do that. I’ve just realized I don’t know much about him at all. And it worries me.”
“Me too, but there are more important things to worry about. Earlier, while you were asleep –”
“Yes?”
Jamillika grabbed her proverbial throat, having just realized that telling Alicia about General Vox would complicate things and worry her unnecessarily. But what to say? Something truthful that worked in context… “Zickle has – uh, how you say, a crush on you?” Well, maybe he doesn’t want her to know that, but at least it’s not a lie.
“What?” Alicia was jarred out of her moping for good. “Are you sure you mean to say –”
“Dog lust. Inflammation. Something of that general variety.”
Puppy love – infatuation – “I never would have guessed!”
“Indeed. It is in his eyes.” That was a close one.
“This is just – do you think I should go after him?”
That was the last thing Jamillika had expected to hear. “Why?” she wondered. “He has done nothing wrong; why punish him?”
Alicia chose to see it as a genuine translation issue and not an insult. “I mean try to start a relationship,” she said. “My – last one didn’t go so well.”
“Mmm. Kaycee told us.”
“He did? I am going to disassemble that clunking heap with a crowbar, you see if I don’t! Ooh…”
“I’m sorry,” said Jamillika.
“Never mind, let’s just forget that stupid robot for a while. I’m sick of him. Right, about Zickle.”
“Go for it.”
“I’m not generally into aliens… and his table manners, using the word ‘table’ loosely, leave a bit to be desired. But he seems nice. I dunno, maybe a little flirting around, and then, who knows?”
“Who knows, indeed?”
“And you…” Alicia gazed thoughtfully at her new friend. “How are you?” she asked.
“I am fine, thanks.”
“And with the guys, too? I mean what about Kahlo? You made eyes at him.”
“‘Made eyes?’”
“You know, like this…” Alicia tried to imitate. Jamillika burst out laughing and when Alicia caught sight of her own reflection in the smudged mirror, so did she.
“Do I really look like that?” said Jamillika, wiping her eyes.
“Only around him,” twittered Alicia. “I’m just messing with you, Jamie, that was an exaggeration. But it’s pretty accurate.”
“For you as well.”
“Hey, but that’s just the estrogen showing. You’ve got real feelings for him.”
Jamillika wondered how the subject had come to this and why the subject kept coming to this. She didn’t want to think about it. But if she expected Alicia to confide in her, she had to do the same. And she still couldn’t tell a lie. “Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps.”
“Well, you’ve got your own culture thing going, and you’re wiser than me anyway, so I’ll leave you to it. But he likes you too. Think about that.”
“If you only knew, child. I am not wise…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I simply do not know things.” There was only so much confiding she could do in a day, and admitting her situation at the palace could take weeks. Instead she posed a question that was as much philosophical as it was intended to tighten her grasp on this slippery English language: “For instance: what constitutes ‘real’ feelings?”
“Heck, I don’t know. Not dog lust or inflammation.” She giggled.
Jamillika didn’t see why. “This is serious,” she said. “I don’t want to discourage you from – uh, how you say, going after him, but keep it as comestibles for cogitation.”
“Food for thought?”
“That’s what I said. You see, that’s the reason I personally am going to not go after Kahlo for the time being. Love is a word that has been overused and misused to death in your language, but in mine it still means something. So I do not want to risk hurt feelings until I am sure that is what we have. Besides – I am busy. I have far too much else to worry about.”
“And me too, but that’s why it doesn’t matter!” said Alicia ecstatically. “We’re in very real danger here. It hasn’t really dawned on me yet, but when it has, I’m sure I’ll be happy to go after Zick! Life is short, Jamie, sister, you have to grab it by the horns!”
Jamillika shook her head. “Are we talking about the same thing? Is life some sort of animal?”
“It’s a metaphor. I mean you have to use your time as well as you can because you don’t know how much is left!”
Which reminded Jamillika that she should be going and figure out her next course of action, as far as saving her planet and everything. “Well,” she said, “that’s why us girls have to stick together, don’t we?”
Alicia couldn’t have agreed more. They shook on it. She noticed suddenly that Jamillika’s eyes were violet, and thought they were very pretty. If only people had that variety back home.
After Jamillika left she considered the prospect of a lasting friendship. It sent pangs through her heart, as she thought of her old friends; like ditzy Cynthia Durmount, whom she had spoken to mere hours ago; mischievous twins Jill and Julie Benson; sheepish Nicole Turner; fearless Haley Martin; illiterate Darby Stillsworth… she stopped there, unable to bear moving on. They were all gone now, forever, as well as her boyfriend and her whole family.
She thought of her own parting words to Jamillika: You have to use your time as well as you can because you don’t know how much is left.
That had always been true, she realized; always had been and always would be for anybody who ever lived. Even so, then dwelling on such a catastrophic past for a while would have almost always been excusable, but not now. She needed to move on.
Still…
She had to know for certain, first… see with her own eyes…
Alicia pushed a pile of moldy underwear and three incredibly rare back issues of “Modern Mogtroid” off of the computer terminal she had noticed earlier but not cared about. Pausing to collect herself, and bracing for the crushing despair she knew she would find, she said, “Computer, please search for recent news items featuring Gragalla.”
“Done,” it said. “I think I know which one you want to see, Mistress Parkinson.”
She shrugged resignedly. “Show it, then,” she said.
A hologram of text appeared on the wall. It said “Wegbert’s Late Night Live” and, in much smaller letters underneath, “Well, obviously, it’s not live anymore, but it was when it was originally broadcast, honest. Just bear with us.” Beneath that in yet smaller letters was added, “English translation courtesy of yours truly (the computer).” Applause started as a deep voice boomed, “Welcome welcome welcome, to Wegbert’s Late Night Live!”
The scene shifted to a stage in a packed auditorium, where a short, spike-headed yellow reptile grinned and waved enthusiastically at the audience. “Hey-o,” he said in a charismatic sultry voice, “nice to see you all again! As you all know, I’m your host, Wilbum Wegbert, and tonight –”
“Want me to just skip to the relevant segment?” asked the computer.
“Yes, please,” said Alicia. No point in building up suspense.
The scene shifted, and Wegbert was suddenly lounging comfortably in a custom-fit easy chair across from another chair which was, apparently, empty.
“And of course,” he was saying, “you all know Gragalla, the disgrace of the Milky Way!”
A round of boos and otherwise disapproving noises went up from the audience.
“What’s that?” said Wegbert. “I can’t hear you!”
The noises came again, louder.
“Beg pardon? I’m not as young as I once was, you know –”
The roar this time was deafening, and the computer had to adjust the volume so poor Alicia’s eardrums weren’t blown out.
“My sentiments exactly,” said Wegbert. “So, yeah, to recap, it was attacked by the Skreel earlier today, as seen in my other shows ‘Wegbert’s Early Morning Live’ and ‘Wegbert’s Mid-Afternoon Live’. Nobody rightly knows why because it seems to have no strategic importance, but nobody’s complaining because they totally deserved it. Even though no one wants to help the people, there are still the animals and it’s not their fault, so of course some conservationists came around eventually to see what they could salvage, but as it turns out –” he held his breath and let a hush fall over the crowd “– they were no longer necessary.”
Alicia felt tears coming to her eyes. “Enough,” she said.
“Wait,” said the computer.
She wondered if it had been talking with Kaycee. But she waited.
“And that is because,” Wegbert continued, “an incredible and completely unforeseen turn of events has saved the planet from certain destruction. The native dominant species, which had not been seen since its apparent extinction over three hundred years ago, made a surprise reappearance today. With them they carried the cold virus that caused this apparent extinction. You know” he lowered his voice jokingly, “that Leonard J. Smith fiasco they don’t like to talk about?”
“I never heard about that,” said Alicia in surprise.
“That’s because they don’t like to talk about it,” said the computer.
“Anyway,” Wegbert went on, “this virus has evolved considerably since then. In a totally unprecedented happenstance, it wiped out not only all of the Skreel ground forces but the crew of their blockade high above the planet. What is so extraordinary about this virus, aside from the fact that it has achieved the impossible? Well, to show you, I have with me one of its spokespersons right here. Please welcome welcome welcome – Harvey!”
The camera shifted to the empty seat, amidst thunderous applause. Alicia was speechless. Could it be –? No, it couldn’t – could it?
“Thanks, Wegbert,” said the empty seat, or “Harvey.” “I’m glad to be here.”
“We’re glad to have you,” said Wegbert. “Although I hope you’re not still contagious!” The audience didn’t respond much to that one, so he cued a laugh track.
“No worries,” said Harvey. “We’ve become enlightened, and now we have better things to do than invade people’s bodies and reproduce.”
“But you still can, if you so choose.”
“Well, yeah. I don’t think we’ll ever lose that. It’s a great skill.”
“What made you want to save a planet nobody liked?”
“I like it. It’s my home. And, come on, cut them a little slack. A lot of the people aren’t so bad, only stupid and misguided. Barring those, there are still the ‘natives,’ as you call them. They call themselves the Straks. Excuse me. All they really want is to live in peace and be left alone.”
“And did they know about The War?”
“Not until it came to them. Now they’re only too happy to participate.”
“So have you been with them all these years?”
“Yes, although I wasn’t sentient the whole time. They became immune to us and then we evolved to live in harmony. It was a great life. I don’t want to divulge much else, because they still want to keep as much privacy as they can.”
“But of course. And you mentioned the other people, the ones who give Gragalla such a bad name. How much have you interacted with them?”
“Oh not much, not much at all. It was only a few years ago that I left home to scout around and see what was still out there. I came across this little girl, about three or four years old at the time, and her name was Gina Parkinson. Brilliant, adorable kid. Just for fun I decided to be her invisible friend, since she still had the imagination for that sort of thing.”
“Gina!” yelled Alicia. “Say more about Gina! Where is she? What’s happened?”
“The others I stayed well away from,” Harvey continued. “Her parents, not a chance. She had an older sister, name of Alicia – whoa there. No imagination at all. Bitter, cynical, aged before her time. She talked to a teddy bear but more for stress relief than anything. Her boyfriend hung around all the time but he was just stupid. For a while they had a pet traktop named Fred, and he was pretty cool. He didn’t quite know what was going on with me, but animals can sense things.”
Alicia was stunned into silence. She didn’t know what to make of this assessment. It did sound plausible enough.
“And you stayed there?” asked Wegbert.
“Until now, yeah. We’re basically immortal so I didn’t worry about getting back home quickly. I never thought much about The War because no one else did, except Alicia of course, and I already said what that did to her. But when the Skreel invaded I had to act. I defended Gina and her mom, and then I hightailed it back home to sound the alarm. And then we kicked their shiny carapaced rumps. The end.”
“That truly is an inspiring story,” said Wegbert. “So next time a young relative goes on about an invisible friend, think twice before you dismiss it as child’s play, huh?” He winked at the camera. Again he decided to cue the laugh track.
“Right,” said Harvey, “otherwise don’t be surprised if you get sick.” That got a decidedly bigger reaction from the audience.
“Thank you for being here,” said Wegbert, fumbling around in the air for Harvey’s hand.
“Thank you for having me,” said Harvey.
“See you around (heh, heh – eh). Next up, does Hylo M’luj really have chin implants?”
The hologram switched off. Alicia blinked at the sudden relative darkness.
“Well,” she said.
“Well, how…” she said.
“Well how about that?” she spurted out at last.
“I say yes, definitely,” said the computer. “They are just not natural, dudette.”
“What? No! I mean, what about Gina? What about mom? What about all my friends? Are they alive or dead!?”
“I don’t know,” said the computer sadly. “I’ll tell you as soon as I find out anything.”
“Thank you.” If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn the computer actually cared about her predicament. Empathizing with machines was an easy mistake to make sometimes, and a comforting one as well. She had never tried to stop herself.
“Were you happy to see it, though?”
“Yes,” she said, “yes, thank you.” She felt part of her recent burden lifting. “What a crazy turn of events. I wouldn’t have expected it in a million years.”
“Me neither,” said a voice from the doorway, “and my years are twice yours.”
Alicia twisted around so fast she nearly got whiplash. She wasn’t at home anymore; shouldn’t nosy bedroom spies be a thing of the past?
It was Buckton. “Oh, hi,” she said. Jamillika must have left the door ajar.
He stepped in further but didn’t seem to have heard her. “Wildest thing,” he continued. “And a darn shame.”
And now she saw that it wasn’t really Buckton, that it looked like Buckton, it sounded like Buckton; but his eyes were full of darkness. Pure hatred radiated off every inch of his flesh. It wasn’t directed at her, but inevitably some glanced off her and chilled her to the bone with its impact.
“Er, what?” she said. “You don’t hate Gragalla that much…”
He crossed the room and picked up a small metal orb of some sort. He stared into its reflective surface, focusing all of the hatred into it. Alicia more than half expected to see it shatter under the impact.
“…do you?”
He tossed the orb aside and looked at her. But she could tell he wasn’t really seeing her, that the room may as well have been empty. Only her words had penetrated his trance:
“It isn’t that,” he said.
Alicia waited patiently for him to continue.
“It isn’t that at all,” he said.
This could take a while.
“I don’t hate Gragalla,” he said. “I don’t give a norchak’s bum about it either way. It isn’t that.”
“No?” she said.
“It’s those strakking Skreel demons!” he howled.
She recoiled from his breath and stared in horror. She remembered how easily he had picked her up and knew that if he started freaking out she was in trouble.
“Vicious, mindless hellspawn. Bastard hybrids of evil and more evil. They all died. One entire fleet – gone. That talking disease killed them all.”
Alicia knew she should keep her mouth shut, but her brain still had trouble with these things sometimes. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” she said.
He narrowed his eyes at her in a way she would never forget. “It should have been me,” he said.
He turned around and marched up the corridor.
***
Marching up corridors never helped General Vox a whole lot, but it was about the only thing it could do. Having already executed half of the bridge crew it didn’t seem the best of ideas to get rid of any more. Fool, it thought. I should have held out for a moment like this. They always come.
It considered executing some other group, but decided against that too. They would all be needed soon enough, if Buckton and Zick were to live up to their reputations. And it knew they would.
“You called, sir?”
It turned and stared at its Chief Thinker. It wanted to pause menacingly for a while and instill a sense of terror in the mouthy underling, but couldn’t restrain itself for that long. “Yes, I did,” it snapped, “and I think you know why. Gragalla. What happened there?”
The Thinker shrugged. “An unforeseen incident.”
“You should have foreseen it! That is your job!”
“My job, if you remember, is to dispose of Buckton and Zick. That’s still going to happen. What’s a planet more or less? I’m sorry, but if you make me share your obsession with rubbing out two individuals like this it’s going to occupy a lot of my time.”
“No, it’s your pet project! You’ve let it become too high of a priority and it’s affecting the quality of your performance, just as I told you it would!”
“Nonsense. Everything is going perfectly well.”
“An entire fleet is lost! Balvador is spared! Your plan is ruined!”
“No, my plan is going fine. Balvador and Ypiupi were always a bonus, remember?” It smirked at the stupidity of its boss, and then smirked at the fact that its boss could do nothing to punish it for making fun of its stupidity. “Besides, I told you before I’m a master of improvisation. It may interest you to know that they’re flying right into another trouble spot and they may be dead before we have to deal with them again.”
“You truly believe that?”
“No, but it’s a possibility. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Everything is under control.” It turned to go, confident in the truthfulness of its words.
“Wait!” snapped Vox. “That doesn’t change what’s happened at Gragalla! What do you intend to do about that?”
“Gragalla’s no great loss, you know that. We’ll have this whole Universe sterilized eventually and it makes little difference what order the planets go in. As for this incredible virus, I’ll have a vaccine in a couple hours. When it takes to the stars after us, we’ll be ready.”
“I’m warning you,” said Vox, “don’t fail me.”
“For the final time, I won’t,” said the Chief Thinker. “And you can stop trying to be all scary like that. You look like a total dork.” It turned and left.
Seething with rage, General Vox weighed its options and considered the pros and cons of each. A short time later, in parts unknown to mankind, a Skreel supply officer was shocked but hardly surprised to receive a requisition for a new flagship bridge crew.
***
Zick was waiting for Buckton, eyes wide and trembling. “Easy, dude, you must have scared the skin off her,” he said. He pulled out an entire pack of gum. “Here,” he said, proffering it.
Buckton dumped it into his mouth, box and all, and chewed vigorously. After a moment some of the hatred left his eyes and he looked around as if seeing the interior of his spaceship for the first time.
“Man,” he said, “that was epic!”
“You’ll feel better once we get some chow into you,” said Zick, “come on.” They headed for the bridge.
“I just don’t know what came over me,” said Buckton, “It was like being possessed or –”
“Shh!” said Zick. “Just a minute!”
They listened at the door for a moment. They could hear voices. One of them was Kaycee’s. “…so I said, ‘Reboot her? I just met her!’”
The other was that of the ship’s computer. “Oh man, seriously? I wouldn’t have dared!”
“Yeah, but get this. Her power couplings were an older model, from before they passed that Tristran conformity act, you know? And I had the wrong sort of adapter for them, so when I tried to –”
Buckton and Zick chose that moment to walk in, hoping to catch Kaycee in an awkward silence. It worked. Kaycee looked embarrassed, insofar as it is possible for a robot to look embarrassed. Zick decided to savor the moment.
“I thought robots were technically gender-neutral,” he said.
“I’ll make you ‘gender-neutral’ if you say a word about this to anyone,” said Kaycee. So much for awkward silences.
“Never mind that,” admonished Buckton, “let’s just get out of hyperspace and find a place to eat, preferably orbital. Oh, and fuel us up. That too. Same place.”
“Yes, sir,” said the computer. “Sorry Kaycee, I can do this one myself.”
“Hmph.” He turned away from the console. “If this was breakfast, I’d say Dargald’s . I don’t care how far away it is. But for lunch or dinner I’ve no opinion either way.”
“Hang on, when have you eaten?” demanded Zick.
“Gustation sensor prototype experimentation.”
“Do we even have time for this?” said Buckton.
“Beats me. I don’t know what’s going on any more than I told you, okay? I’d say to play it safe, we shouldn’t stop, but –”
“Screw that,” said Buckton. “No one can expect us to save the universe on empty stomachs. It’s unheard of.”
“Meh. Food? Pitiful organic beings.”
***
“Out of curiosity, um… that nightgown in my cabin, is it a traditional garment on your homeworld?”
“I don’t know,” said Zick, averting his gaze. “I don’t remember my homeworld. And I never knew my parents.”
“Oh…” Alicia felt like a monster. “I didn’t mean – I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s cool.”
Nonetheless, she felt that she had completely blown the situation already. She started to walk away.
“There’s one in each, y’see.” He looked into her eyes as if to say, Don’t leave. “Nightgowns in cabins, I mean. I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along all my life.”
She looked at those teeth again, and shuddered.
“Besides,” he continued sheepishly, “I like to wear ‘em myself sometimes. I love the way they softly caress my… skin.”
“It is nice,” she admitted.
“And the air circulation…!”
“Zickle, my friend,” said Buckton, “never say that again. Hey, guys,” he added as he flipped on the ship’s intercom, “we’re popping in somewhere for a bite. Get ready ‘cause after that who knows what will happen.” He turned it off and gave Zickle a meaningful look. “Just never say that again,” he repeated.
Zickle looked away. “Well, I have stuff to do,” he said. “See ya.”
He walked across the bridge to his pilot’s chair.
“I’m still right here,” said Alicia, somewhat put out.
“Yeah, I mean, I have stuff to do that desperately requires being left alone. Important spaceship stuff.”
Alicia started to say something but Kaycee grabbed her arm and maneuvered her into the corner. “What the snap are you doing!?” he demanded.
She was bewildered at his apparent fury. “Just making the proverbial lemonade.”
“Girl, you’re making cyanide. You don’t understand fully what’s going on here. It’s over your head.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
“Personal matters. Just trust me on this, okay?”
“I’m already trusting you to lead us somewhere you don’t know for some reason we don’t know instead of helping bring aid to the Queen! I think that’s enough and if you insist on trying to ruin what little fun I can have under these circumstances something has to give!”
“Everything’s always about you, isn’t it? Always has been! ‘Poor me, I’m so depressed. I can’t change anything so instead of coping I think I’ll mope like I’m perpetually on the rag. Kaycee, cheer me up. Oh no, someone’s saving my insignificant life and I don’t want him to because he smells funny. Oh no, I have to leave home instead of dying. Kaycee, cheer me up. Oh no, my family that I never gave a snap about is –”
“KC-1138, you shut your strakking metal mouth!” she screamed, causing Buckton and Zick to look up from their own argument and stare at her.
As luck would have it Hok Tubok chose that moment to burst onto the bridge. He did this in quite a literal going-through-midair sense of the word and augmented it with an impressive series of flips before sliding to a halt inches from the dashboard.
“Hey, Buckton, dude, how was that?” he asked.
Buckton shrugged. “Not half bad,” he said. “Of course I would recommend putting music to it.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan, man, but it ain’t going so hot. These boobs I’m working with cannot focus.”
“These whats?” demanded Jamillika who was just walking in with Kahlo in tow.
“Slang expression!” Kaycee hastily informed her. “Means idiotic simpletons, which they are.”
She subconsciously clutched at her own chest in shock. “Why would your language do such a thing?”
“When we have a few vacation days available, I’ll tell you why that is the least of human problems.”
“Excuse me –”
“Earthling humans. Not you.”
“Look,” said Hok, who had been patiently trying to speak with Buckton and was consistently being thwarted in these attempts by the rising voices behind him, “it’s out of context and meaningless to my species so deal, okay? Now whose brilliant idea was it to teach this chick to talk?”
“Do I look like a baby bird to you?” she demanded.
“If,” shouted Buckton, “everyone would kindly take a moment’s pause from this delightfully intelligent and edifying conversation, I would point out to them that we’re arriving at a restaurant and it is time to eat. And Hok, don’t use that word anymore. I find it offensive too.”
“Which one? Never mind,” he added quickly, “let’s just get on with whatever we’re doing. I’ll stay on the ship. Me and the gang aren’t eating a crumb until those idiotic simpletons have gotten every last note down pat.”
“Hok, I don’t think you realize what’s going on here. We don’t know the next time we’ll be able to eat.”
“You don’t think I realize that? I’m starving, man, but we have to remember our priorities and this is art! For instance, we’re working on this – special project, and we haven’t even reached the bridge!”
“You’re on the bridge, why couldn’t the others make it?” wondered Jamillika.
Hok stared at her, and then left in a huff, which she thought was unnecessarily rude of him. She found herself beginning to wish she could exercise her authority as a Queen here and put ingrates like him in her place. But that was her sister’s philosophy and she warned herself sternly to avoid going anywhere near there at all costs.
They all stared at the restaurant coming up. It was a large floating platform with a shack and adjoining warehouse on it. Both buildings were quite run-down and dilapidated but in this respect they were certainly preferable to having been blown to atoms, which did not frequently befall floating restaurants on account of their being such trivial targets but befell them often enough to dissuade others from staying in business. The only thing on this one that hinted at a high level of technology, aside from the fact that it was floating through space, was the huge neon orange sign that read, in a bizarre alien script none of the passengers except Kaycee knew, “Gumble’s Yum-bles”. Unfortunately half of the letters were burned out and the remaining ones coincidentally read, in a different and fortunately more obscure bizarre alien script, “Our food contains live parasites that will make mincemeat of your bowels”. This was of course entirely untrue but whatever hell the proprietors would have to pay when someone fluent in that script finally arrived was apparently cheaper than replacing the darn bulbs.
Only a few ships of disparate origin were scattered about the parking lot, being refueled and repaired and refurbished by as many types of rusty dented-up robots. A few looked up distractedly at the approach of the Ankled Apex and one waved, carelessly welding its other arm to a ship’s hull in the process. Another robot appeared to be yelling at it for its foolishness, but the first one was not to blame. It had been modeled a bit too closely after organic behavior and was thus willing to do anything to avoid work.
“Chow time,” muttered Buckton to himself. He glanced sidelong at Zick. “And if certain things continue, there’s going to be something else on the menu.”
“Will you lay off?” demanded Zick, but he looked at his barbecue sauce and involuntarily licked his lips.
Next: Chapter Nine (Unfinished)
