by James Peters
“You are the most pathetic looking bunch of recruits I’ve ever seen! Look at all of you, out of uniform and standing there with extra arms and whatnot. You make me want to puke, go and eat again, so I can repeat the process!”
Ginn sighed and her face softened. “It’s good to have you back, Sarge.
“Somebody give me a situational update, pronto!” Sarge demanded.
“We’ve landed and had to make repairs. There’s no danger.” Ginn replied.
“I’ll be the one to say if it’s safe or not! Why are we being scanned by a lughelon queen’s ship?”
Ginn’s eyes flared. “I’d hoped they’d left the system, but it seems they decided to remain.”
“I’ll take care of this,” Sarge said. “Attention, lughelon ship! This is the migrun dreadnought Zammarius. You have exactly five seconds to cease your scanning before I launch a volley of fusion warheads precisely at your location. Do you understand me?”
A stuttering voice replied, “Our apologies, Zammarius. We were unaware of any other migrun vessels in the area.”
“Then I’d recommend you find another location for yourselves to occupy. Noncompliance will be seen as an act of aggression. Missiles at the ready!”
“We’re calculating a Null Space Conduit now. We want no trouble. We’re jumping in three, two, one…”
“Are they gone?” I asked.
“Gone like a sailor’s paycheck on the first day of shore leave,” Sarge said.
Ginn’s lips curled up in a rare smile. “Sarge, perform a complete system check in preparation for launch.”
“Aye. I need an engineering team to report to reactor core for full inspection.”
Ginn muttered quietly, “I’ll work with him.”
The ship lifted just off the ground enough to move out from under the tree line and then Sarge kicked in the engines. I felt as if I were being smothered by a concrete blanket as we left the primitive planet. The thrusting calmed as we exited the atmosphere, and strangely enough, I was relieved to get into space.
During the Trad-Prop portion of our trip, we spent the better part of a full day arguing over the distribution of the dracnarian treasure. Slowhand believed he’d earned at least half of it, Jekto threatened to kill all of us if he didn’t get his fair share, and Rhuldan stared everyone down with a deadly look on his face. Ginn insisted she should get some additional compensation for her trouble with the migrun, and everyone (except for me, of course) agreed that the “incidental costs of this operation” should come from my share. By the time we were done, we had a formula written on a board in the Situation Room, complete with the letters and symbols I doubted Sir Isaac Newton could’ve comprehended. I ended up with the smallest stack of trilatinum credits. I should’ve fought for more, but we had some time to kill on the way back. I had a deck of cards, so I had a plan to redistribute the wealth in a more equitable manner.
I went to the cockpit to see Slowhand hanging upside down. He had one hand resting on a control panel; his gaze focused somewhere out in space.
“Hey.” I stepped across the threshold.
He nodded.
“That was some battle back on the base. You surprised me. You moved like a cheetah with its tail on fire.”
“You surprised me as well, you surviving and all.”
“Yeah, I’m not as easy to kill as everyone assumes. So, what happens now?”
“We’re headed back to Panadaras, where we’ll allow you, Rhuldan, and Jekto to exit the airlock and hopefully we’ll never see each other again.”
I acted as if I were studying the displays, but in truth I was trying to buy some thinking time. “I was thinking about that. We’re all stronger as a team. Perhaps we should all stick together?”
“Ha! Not a chance, biped!” Slowhand crossed his eyes and pulled his upper lip back to show me his teeth.
Ginn entered the cockpit behind me. “What’s with the stupid face, Solondrex?”
“This idiot thinks we are a team and should all stick together!”
A smile curved across Ginn’s face and then she burst out laughing, pointing at me. “You truly are insane, aren’t you? You think we’re a team?”
“I, uh…” I tried to respond.
Rhuldan had silently entered. “What’s going on here?”
Ginn shook her head. “Idiom thinks we should all stick together once we get back to Panadaras.”
“That’s not going to work for me,” Rhuldan said. “Considering how the migrun wanted to capture me for some nefarious purpose, I’m heading to more neutral territory.”
“What’s with the meeting?” Jekto wiggled his way into the cockpit, squeezing us all in so tightly we couldn’t move.
Slowhand laughed, “Idiom here… wait, I can’t say it,” he laughed again. “He wanted all of us to stick together as a team!”
“He jokes! What fun,” Jekto said. “Not me. As soon as I get back, I’m going to Dichel. There are a few hundred dichelon females who need to see my scar, among other things.”
“So that’s it? We get back to the base, and we all go our separate ways?” I couldn’t believe this was it.
Everyone spoke at the same time. “Yes.”
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
We made it back to Panadaras and docked in bay B163. Ginn and Slowhand settled up with the migrun authorities and prepaid for the next several cycles, so they and Sarge had a place to stay.
I collected my rifle and what little gear I had along with my now larger stash of trilatinum credits and said a quick farewell to Sarge, Ginn, and Slowhand. I’m not certain, but I thought I detected just a hint of sadness in Ginn’s eyes before she turned away. She seemed to be busy, occupying herself with something that looked important, but I suspected wasn’t.
I gave Rhuldan a hearty handshake, wishing him the best of fortunes. My stomach roiled as the sensation of time flip-flopping overcame me. “Until we meet again.”
“That’s an unusual thing to say,” Rhuldan paused, then added, “perhaps we shall, Idiom.”
Jekto was just about to leave, so I waited on him for a minute. “Hey, Jekto, walk with me.” We exited the airlock. I scanned side to side to make sure nobody was in earshot. “Thank you for keeping your word.”
Jekto took in a deep breath, puffing out his chest. “I promised to keep your secret by my code as a warrior. I suspect we did the right thing.”
“I do too. Just remember, tell no one.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Now go back to Dichel and show off that scar. Tell the women how brave you were and your kill count.”
“Oh, no!” Jekto said, “I lost count of my kills!”
“Twenty-seven,” I said, pretending as if I had actually counted them.
“Twenty-seven! That would earn me a medal in wartime!”
“Trust me; you’ve earned one.”
I wasn’t sure where to go, but I found myself heading down to the seedy bar deep below the common areas. The same green-skinned, frog-mouthed bartender was there, but he didn’t seem to recognize me. I figured he saw so many different types of beings; a devilishly handsome human didn’t make much of an impression.
“What will it be?”
“Something that didn’t come out of another creature.”
“Have you tried an Ionic Blaster?”
“Not yet. How much?”
“Two credits.”
I set three coins on the bar. He reached under the counter, produced a glowing bottle, and poured a shot. It fizzed, sending millions of tiny bubbles into the air.
I sipped the drink and thought about everything. When I had realized Fayye would double-cross us, and how Jekto and I pulled the oldest trick in the book on the “team.” You see, while we were dumping his droppings back in the cave on that primitive planet, we used his pride and joy: a ball of dung so large, it must’ve weighed fifty pounds. Together, we sprayed it with a can of black sealant I’d pocketed from Sarge’s emer
gency repair kit, and we made the switch, putting that shiny black poo in storage pod 4A, in place of the element zero. We dumped that into the bottom of the deep underground spring, where it should be safe from prying eyes for many years to come.
Fayye and the migrun stole nothing more than a blackened dichelon turd from us. What happens to Fayye is her problem. I have no sympathy for her as she double-crossed the wrong man.
I finished the Ionic Blaster, and a sense of warmth flowed through my body. Would I ever see Rhuldan, Jekto, Ginn, Slowhand, and Sarge again?
I had a feeling I just might.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James Peters fell in love with Science Fiction at a young age, becoming hooked on the works of Asimov, Anderson, and Pohl (among many others), as well as the mixed bag of anything labeled Science Fiction on television or at the movies while growing up. While in grade school, he was given an assignment to write a journal about anything he wanted. He quickly filled the pages with a Buck Roger’s type adventure of robots, spaceships, and pew-pewing lasers, discovering his inner passion to write.
He writes with a gritty blend of character-driven action, wry humor, and social commentary that transports the reader through wild worlds of speculative fiction and fantasy. He’s known to cross the borders of different genres into new territory, along with an occasional ‘wink and nod’ to pop culture and other authors, then shock the reader with an unexpected turn of events.
Sit back, open your mind and enjoy the ride. Your adventure awaits.
Psst – Idiom and the crew will be returning for more adventures.
If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review online. Reviews are like magical items to authors, providing them energy to continue writing and to level up so someday they can stand before the Balrog and say “You shall not pass” to save their party of mostly short adventurers.
Author’s links:
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B017TQ8VUS
https://www.facebook.com/BlackSwanPlanet/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17190935.James_Peters