Five Unicorn Flush

by TJ Berry

  “So you’re ditching the dead weight. Do the other twelve know that?”

  “They will do what I tell them,” said Govvie.

  “Their laser is fully charged,” whispered Mary.

  A skinny triangle of green light reached out to them. The Actually’s laser gunner adjusted his angle and it swung in their direction. Mary dodged up and down, bouncing Jenny like ice in a cocktail shaker.

  “Jesus,” said Jenny, sipping air like water. Mary clicked off the comm.

  “We can’t do this forever,” said Mary. “Eventually, they’re going to nick us with that thing. Best case, we’ll lose a portion of the hull. Worst case, we’re sitting ducks out here and they capture you for a midnight snack.” She weaved and bobbed in empty space, still generally traveling away from the Well Actually.

  “Open a channel to the AI only,” said Jenny. Her words slowed with dizziness and nausea.

  “Go,” said Mary.

  “Actually, can you do anything to shut down the laser or corrupt its targeting?” asked Jenny.

  “No. I’m locked out of all of those systems. The worst I could do is make it rain hot water on them. Or open the interior doors.”

  “They’re going to kill us,” said Jenny, “Any ideas?”

  “I don’t know, man. Open a channel and do what you humans do best. Reason with them,” said Actually.

  Jenny bristled at the word “reason.” What had once seemed reasonable was no longer so. Up was down, down was up.

  The Reason.

  Jenny’s head jerked up, her face stretched in a grin that Mary would later describe in her incident report as “both sinister and gleeful.”

  “Actually, do you have access to your distress beacon?” asked Jenny.

  “No.”

  “That’s fine. Do you at least know your confidential verification code?”

  “Totally! BMF1977,” said Actually.

  “Mary, route as much power as you can to our distress beacon and open an unencrypted wide-broadcast emergency channel. Make it go as far as you can,” said Jenny.

  “Done,” said Mary.

  “Anyone out there listening, this is the USS Well Actually, verification BMF1977. We have been attacked by a rogue ship and are limping along in the lower right quadrant, 26k off the Jaisalmer system beacon. We need assistance and are willing to exchange emergency transport for a bit of unicorn horn we found. Repeat, this is the USS Well Actually, verification BMF1977. We need help and will trade unicorn horn for assistance.” Jenny made her voice sound friendly and naive, just like Governor Dan had sounded during their initial contact.

  Mary made a low whistle as the Actually’s laser shut down, leaving openspace as black as eternal night.

  “Cancel that help request, we’re fine, back under power and leaving the area,” yelled Govvie over the same emergency frequency.

  “Reopen the private channel to Govvie,” said Jenny, settling back into her chair, then grunting and leaning forward away from the burned skin on her back. Shouts and curses came through the open channel. Most of them directed at her.

  “The devil! You damned dirty devil!” screamed Govvie.

  “Enjoy your company. Maybe you’ll be able to freeze a meal or two before the pirates pick you apart,” said Jenny as Mary dropped them down away from the Well Actually and turned off the private comm.

  “What will happen to me?” asked Actually, whom Jenny had forgotten was still on the line.

  “Oh. Actually. Don’t worry. You’re a solid ship. Someone will unlock your systems and clean you up. You can finally find out what’s going on down on those bottom two floors, eh? I bet we’ll meet again,” said Jenny, not entirely sure if she was lying. She felt a twinge of guilt for leaving the Well Actually’s AI behind with those corrupted humans.

  “I don’t suppose there’s any way for me to come with you,” said Actually wistfully.

  “Mary?” asked Jenny. AIs, especially the older models, were stored in huge processing rooms filled with multiple supercomputers immersed in coolant. You couldn’t just download the code and keep it on a portable drive.

  “No way that I know of without going back there,” said Mary.

  “Sorry, Actually. All I can say is be as cooperative as you can with whoever boards you and they probably won’t take you apart for scrap,” said Jenny.

  “That was not very reassuring,” said Mary.

  “No, it wasn’t,” agreed Actually.

  Jenny shook her head.

  “You’re both computers. Go… compute something.”

  Mary sighed and spoke to the other ship herself.

  “Actually, your service to your crew, both living and deceased, was exemplary. I cannot find an example in my database of a ship of your class who had to perform in such ethically taxing circumstances. You are to be commended for making the best of a truly impossible situation. And, on top of that, you assisted in the rescue of my captain, and for that you will have not only my gratitude, but a note in my logs that you should be honored on Ship’s Day.”

  “Dude, thank you,” said the Well Actually. “Thank you very much. Well Actually over and out.”

  “That was very nice,” said Jenny.

  “I’m good with people,” said Mary.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  First Strike Capability

  “You are spending too much time in the null,” said Findae over their sour and unpleasant breakfast.

  The Bala had located a variety of grain on the planet that grew quickly in the planet’s marshlands; however, it only thrived close to the acidic water, so the task of cultivating it was left to a handful of brave and irresponsible souls.

  “I’m merely checking on every Bala around the planet,” replied Gary, taking a bite and grimacing. The boiled grains had an unpleasant vinegary flavor, but one could not be choosy on a new planet gifted by the gods. It would have been better with a bit of cream to temper the acidity, but no one had yet found a native animal that produced any sort of milk.

  “You have been watching a Reason ship that is heading in our direction,” said Findae, “The humans are coming.”

  “They won’t find us,” said Gary, “And even if they do, it’s a single ship. We outnumber them significantly.”

  “We have absolutely no technology. They could strafe the planet with their most ancient lasers and disintegrate the majority of us in minutes,” said Findae. “We were unprepared the last time we encountered humans, but this time we will be ready.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Gary.

  “That we won’t allow them to enslave us again,” said Findae. “We will destroy their ship the moment they exit the null.”

  “There are innocent people on that ship,” said Gary, aghast. He stood up, even though there was nothing he could actually do.

  “There is no such thing as an innocent human,” said Findae.

  “If the Pymmie wanted humans eradicated, they would have done it themselves,” said Gary. “They separated us for our safety.”

  “It’s unwise to infer anything about the Pymmie’s intentions,” said Findae dryly. “Oftentimes, we’re quick to ascribe motivations, only to learn that they’re simply playing games with entire civilizations. In addition, I can’t imagine that a ship full of humans on their way to a Bala planet they’ve been expressly forbidden to seek out have honorable intentions.”

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing from you,” said Gary. “You’re advocating the destruction of a ship full of people who have not taken any threatening action against us.”

  “You were at Copernica Citadel. You have seen firsthand the destruction that humans can wreak,” said Findae.

  “We are not at war,” said Gary.

  “Aren’t we?” asked Findae. He let out a whinny loud enough to echo down the mountain and into the valley.

  Gary sat back down across from his father. “The things you’re saying these days… you don’t sound like the Bala I once knew.

  One
time, long ago, you loved Mom so much that you were willing to start a war to be with her.”

  “Don’t place the blame for this conflict at my hooves,” said Findae. “Love does not conquer all. It’s messy and often leads you down the path to hideous mistakes.”

  “Am I a hideous mistake?” asked Gary.

  “You were, and still are, a sentimental child,” snorted Findae.

  “I’m one hundred and twelve. I’ve seen some things. I know how the universe works. That connection – between you and Mom – that is why we came together in the first place and I know we can find a way to make it work between our people and theirs.”

  Findae’s face hardened. “We are not people. You use their words and you take their side. When that ship arrives, it will be no different than the last hundred times humans arrived at a Bala planet. They will reap what they want and slaughter anyone they consider useless. I will not allow the genocide of the Bala to occur again,” he said.

  “That lightning the other night. Is that how you plan to blow up the human ship?” asked Gary.

  “It’s an option,” said Findae.

  “Would you at least allow me a moment to talk to them?” asked Gary.

  “You were the one who said they would never find us. Did you forget about the necromancers?” asked Findae.

  “No. I don’t think the Pymmie did either,” replied Gary.

  “It would be typical of the Pymmie to set us up for one of their experiments.” Findae glanced around as if nervous that the omniscient beings were listening. They probably were.

  “There are humans on that ship who might be sympathetic to us,” said Gary.

  “It will take them no more than two or three minutes to fire on us,” said Findae. “I cannot take that chance with the few precious Bala we have left on this planet.”

  They sat in silence for several long minutes. Gary heard the sounds of the village gearing up for the day in the valley below. He was still ruminating on how to better make his case when his father spoke again.

  “Is she on the ship?” he asked quietly. Gary knew immediately who he meant.

  “I don’t think she’s alive any more,” said Gary. “I believe I watched her die.”

  Findae let out a great relieved breath. “Oh, thank Unamip. I had it in my head you were trying to save that horrible woman.

  I mean, Jim you would kill in a second, and you seem to know better than to ally with him, but Captain Perata you seem to have a soft spot for, even after everything that she did to you.”

  “No, she’s dead.” Gary’s words were clipped and short. Findae shook his mane.

  “Well then there’s absolutely no reason not to strike first. There is no human on that ship worth risking our lives over.” He laughed. “That’s a great weight off my back. I thought you were trying to save this so-called friend of yours.”

  “I’d like to put it to a vote,” said Gary.

  “What?” Findae stopped short.

  “I’d like the Bala on the planet to vote whether they want to destroy the human ship or make contact with it,” said Gary.

  “A vote? This is not a representative democracy. The unicorns, and the Cobalt’s in particular, have ruled the Bala successfully for millennia,” said Findae.

  “We have led them into ruin,” said Gary. “I simply want to ask the Bala what they prefer to do. Even if they vote to make contact, your plan is delayed by only a few minutes.”

  “Ridiculous. We’re the beings with thousands of years of experience. We’re the wise ones,” said Findae, raising his voice. “Why would we consult satyrs and centaurs on their opinions? They’re two steps up from an unthinking beast. We have to decide for them.”

  “And how is that kind of thinking any different than how humans treated us?” asked Gary.

  “Because they’re our Bala and we’re looking out for their wellbeing,” said Findae. “We’re not trying to exploit them, but protect them.”

  “Then give them the benefit of self-determination,” said Gary. “Let them choose. At the very least, it will give the factions who are asking to leave something to focus on. Perhaps even stop the talk of civil war from Horm and her growing army.”

  Findae considered this last bit. His nostrils flared as they did when he was conflicted or frustrated.

  “Fair,” he said. “I suppose a non-binding, informational vote would be acceptable. Let them feel like they have some say in how the settlement is run.” He picked up his head as if an idea had just occurred to him. “Actually, a vote to strike first could perhaps unite the Bala against the humans. That is not a bad idea at all. We could even organize a hunting party for whatever is kidnapping Bala out of the forest. That will give everyone something to do.”

  “Perhaps we should figure out who or what is causing the disappearances, and where those Bala have gone, before we start hunting anyone,” said Gary. Findae turned on him.

  “When did you become so conservative in your decisions? You say that I’ve changed, but you’re not the decisive leader you once were,” said Findae. “The Gary of two decades would have charged into that forest and torn his enemies to shreds.”

  “The Gary from two decades ago ended up in prison for ten years,” said Gary. “Perhaps his decision-making skills were not the most developed.”

  “You know, I called you a child, but you truly sound like a tired old man. Your mother and I never knew how long you would live, given your mixed heritage. Is it possible you are coming to the end of your life?” asked Findae in all seriousness.

  Gary scoffed. Only his father would talk about his mortality as if he was inquiring after a failing houseplant. Like Gary’s potential death was a nuisance that he couldn’t quite muster any feelings about. “I don’t imagine I’ll be dying any time soon,” he said.

  “Ah well,” said Findae absently, clearly thinking about something else. “You should send that centaur into the forest to look for the disappeared Bala. I’m sure she’s willing to tear things to shreds in your place if prison has left you without the taste for blood.”

  Findae chuckled again and trotted out of the room. Anger flooding him, Gary shoved away the slate with the day’s agenda. It hit the floor and shattered into a handful of stone shards.

  At Findae’s mention of blood and prison, his rational brain had shut down and only raw emotion remained. Fear and anger flooded through him. It had taken all of his strength not to lash out at the table in front of his father.

  If Findae was planning to sic Horm on whatever was kidnapping Bala, it behooved him to get a better idea of what they were dealing with. It could be something as innocuous as Bala making up creepy stories about those who ran away from the hard work of the village. Sometimes, it was easier to believe in ghosts than admit that your neighbor had simply given up on the life that you were still toiling to build. It could also be a native species with a taste for Bala blood, in which case, Horm night actually come in handy.

  Gary headed for the marsh. The acidic water had kept a comforting buffer between the hungry forest creatures and the village, but also made it difficult to visit the dryads and other creatures that had settled among the coral-colored trees beyond. A few native plants grew in the caustic water and there were even signs that there was animal life under the surface. If someone – or something – had been dragging Bala into the water, the victim would fully dissolve within an hour, leaving no evidence of the abduction.

  The sun was hot and soon Gary began to sweat. He pulled off his sweater and carried it. The planet was warm enough not to need extra layers, but having it along was a habit he’d picked up from his cold days in space. One he couldn’t seem to shake. They hadn’t figured out how to make textiles from the local plant life and clothing was getting worn and threadbare. Coupled with the difficult field-work, it would only be a matter of weeks until everyone’s clothing was in shreds.

  It took Gary nearly half an hour to reach the marsh. Bala stopped him along the way, inquiring about roads and
crops and when they might have electricity.

  “Bala lived for thousands of years without electricity,” Gary said to a neofelis who had approached him, hands on hips.

  “I have six babies at home, I need some kind of electronic tablet with games to keep them occupied so I can get things done,” she retorted. “You try digging a pit latrine while six kittens keep falling into the hole.” She stormed off.

  By the time he reached the marshes the sun had reached its peak, evaporating the acidic water and creating a burning mist that stung his eyes. Those at the water’s edge were outcasts who were assigned the worst jobs; mostly satyrs and fauns. He had never seen satyrs outside of a Reason detention center. They were generally kept out of public view due to their huge and often-present erections as well as their penchant for eating anything (food, plants, furniture) that wasn’t nailed down.

  The satyr in charge of grain farming met him at the edge of the marsh. He wore tight jeans and his erection pushed into one leg of his trousers.

  “Your highness,” he said, bowing to him in the middle.

  “Just Gary.”

  “Come to see the new irrigation system?” asked the satyr.

  “Of course.” He hadn’t, but if it made the farmers happy to imagine he had, he was fine with that.

  “We’ve rigged hollow branches from the berry bushes – the ones that grow at the ocean’s edge – and directed the fresh water from the sea into the swamp.”

  “Changing the acidity of the marshland,” said Gary.

  “Exactly. We’re able to double the yield with slightly fresher water. If we can somehow remove the acid entirely, we could probably feed the entire settlement on grain alone.”

  “But what of the native species in the marsh?” asked Gary.

  The satyr blinked at him.

  “Well, there’s just some amphibians. They’ve been spending more time on land instead of the water, so I don’t think it bothers them,” he said.

  “We should take care to not disturb the ecosystems that were already in place on this planet,” said Gary.

  The satyr frowned. His tail came up over his shoulder and flicked an insect away.