The Miserable Planet #3

by Jacob Lindaman

  ~

  Eallra deposited them on the sand. They said their goodbyes and their thank yous. But not without gifts; an unnecessary gesture from the mermaids. They received a little food, fresh water and some matches. Citra gave Tuck a fish hook and a string.

  “One last thing,” Citra said to Tuck and Avers who were still waist deep in water. “In order for the potion to work properly you both must drink. Therah already has I believe. Her memories will come back, but they will simply be a flood of fog until you drink.”

  “She gave you a potion too?”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who gulped it down. What is there to remember anyways?”

  “Why do we both have to do it?” Avers crossed her arms. “Now it will never happen.”

  “Because both of you are intertwined.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Citra leaned towards Avers whispering as Tuck stared blankly. Then she spoke to both of them, “Your destinies may run together, but if your pasts have been altered your fates may have changed too. What future will you choose?”

  “What are you saying?” Tuck asked.

  “The two of you,” Citra pointed, “were once one.”

  “What?” They said in unison.

  Citra reached for their hands. Avers pulled away, but Tuck, stunned, was too slow.

  Seeing them hold hands Avers gave a ‘Hmph’ and made for the others on the beach.

  “Or maybe not.”

  Soon enough Citra let go and drifted back into the surf. The waves carried her under until he could see her no more.

  On the beach he fumbled with the hook and string until Pepla helped him by placing it around his neck.

  “I could go for a roasted fish,” she said with a smile.

  He tied the string to a stick while Pepla hunted for worms. The others were content sitting around the fire talking. Except for Avers.

  “What makes you our leader?” she said standing next to him.

  He raised an eyebrow saying nothing.

  “You think you should be in charge? In charge of these women and their unfortunate situation?” There was hostility in her voice that was not there before.

  “You can do as you please.”

  “Maybe we will.”

  “I’m only doing as that fish advised me.”

  “Hmph,” she stomped off back to the fire.

  Sundown was still hours away, but they were nowhere near their destination. They ate, they drank and for the first time in many days they slept under the stars. Pepla, ever so loyal to her master, was the last to lay down choosing to sleep nearest Tuck and the professor. At least she did not stink like Postulis and Hermenes.

  Nearby, birds began chirping just before the sun came up. The party slowly rose from their sandy beds and started off. Citra had informed them of the general path they should take. Not far inland was a highway; paved, Tuck noted. Not much traffic, but soon enough a city could be seen. It was no real city in the sense that Tuck remembered cities on Mars. It was small spatially. However, it was rather tall.

  The road went straight into the middle of town. The buildings cast dominating shadows hiding alleys and cooling the northern side of every structure. Everything was glass; from the wide one-story shops to the sleek slopes toppling the sky. Even the streets were laminated in a hard transparent coating.

  Some pedestrians passed by coddling tiny dogs Tuck had once heard about during an intelligence lecture during his military training. Some Earthians enjoyed the company of a seemingly useless and oftentimes burdensome companion. If he saw one stray too far from its owner he promised himself he would kick it across the street.

  For all of the newness the people of the town paid little attention to the visitors. He did not think they blended in well. The inhabitants must have been too preoccupied to notice.

  Finally, they found what they were looking for; a large circular building on the far side of the town next to a stream. On the opposite side of the tower away from the stream was a large manicured lawn.

  Inside the building they found their man. Cassidy Stone resided on the 35th floor. In fact, his office was there too.

  “Like in the old days,” Avers said. “When a preacher lived in a parsonage.”

  The comment struck Tuck in a peculiar way. ‘An odd choice of words,’ he thought. ‘A parsonage? Those have been gone for centuries. Where did that memory come from?’

  Inside the building the other four were completely helpless. Tuck rang Cassidy’s number. A woman, likely a maid, answered. When she spoke through the speaker Postulis and Hermenes looked confused. The professor was engrossed in the spectacle, but looked confused.

  The woman kindly let them in as if they were long lost friends finally returned. Cassidy was out of town, she told them, but should return the following day. She stated she was his assistant, Orlean. They were welcome to make themselves at home provided they did not go into his office. She ran the place when he was gone and sometimes, she emphasized, even when he was there.

  “Mr. Stone does not like it when things are out of order. When things are out of order he is not pleasant to be around. But don’t worry. Everything is running smoothly now.” A maid folded towels and placed them in a pile. Then she moved them to the hallway around the corner. She was diligent in her work. Or perhaps she pretended to work when she really wasn’t.

  “What is his business?”

  “What do you mean?” Orlean walked back into the room following the maid who was still folding towels.

  “What is it that takes him out of town?”

  “Oh, I can’t tell you. Mr. Stone enjoys his privacy.”

  That could have been a lie, but Tuck would never know.

  “Although,” the maid butted in, “he is an important man. He runs a whole half of the government. I’ve heard him speak that much.”

  The room was filled with shiny things. The furniture was plated in chrome. The floor was polished marble. Even the walls were reflective glass. The bookshelves too were metal, but they were small and tucked into the corner of the room.

  Pepla sat on a shiny couch, one of many, and as soon as she did she yipped for her life.

  “What is it?” Postulis asked, her mace ready for action.

  A little ball of fur scurried across the room.

  “Ah!” the maid said, “Filibuster! Come here, now.”

  The little thing wobbled into her arms.

  “Oh dear, oh dear.”

  “What is it?” Pepla asked.

  “I think you hurt his leg.”

  “No, I mean what is that thing?”

  “Filibuster? You people. You are weird. Oh dear.” She turned to the little dog who licked her lips. Her voice increased an octave. “You’ll be OK. My little Yorkie.”

  “Yorkie? What is that?”

  “I think I need to go,” she said holding him in her arms like a loaf of bread.

  “What’s wrong? I hope I didn’t hurt him.”

  “We shall see about that miss. I’m going to the vet to have him X-rayed. If anything is wrong with him Mr. Stone will be hearing about this.”

  Without any further words she slammed the door behind her.

  “What should we do now?” Hermenes asked.

  “I’m going to find her.”

  “No you’re not,” Avers stopped her before she reached the door. “You’re staying right here with us.”

  “My Lady, I don’t want her to cause us any trouble.”

  “She’s right,” Tuck said. “We need to wait here until this Cassidy guy comes back.”

  “He is aware of the fact that you are here,” Orlean said. “I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. I’m leavin
g soon as well.”

  The technological similarities of the place were by far nearer to what Tuck and Avers were used to. Postulis, Hermenes, Pepla and the professor relegated themselves to the simpler things; sitting, looking and when found food eating. But even this proved trying to them. For in sitting the chairs were odd. A mix of shiny chrome bundled inside of…not leather. What was it? No one seemed to know, but it was soft and smooth. When they examined their environment everything seemed foreign or fragile. If anyone did know how to use anything they chose not to for fear of breaking it. Even the food was odd. Perhaps it was not prepared properly by Tuck, but it felt the most familiar even to him.

  Despite their familiarity with such things neither Tuck nor Avers cared for the place.

  “What is it?” she asked him while the others watched.

  “I’m sure it is advanced for whatever it is, but can’t figure out what it does.”

  He fumbled around a fist sized metal jack in his hand.

  “Put it down. You don’t want to break it.”

  “I was thinking I don’t want it to kill me. Could be some sort of kitchen knife set.”

  She took the thing from his hands. He did not let go right away. This caused her to pull a little hard bringing herself closer to him. Their hands touched, for a moment, but it was a moment neither intended to happen.

  Their eyes met.

  And for a moment they remembered something, but the memory was quickly washed away. The heavy eyes from the onlookers forced them to feel the object in their hands. She returned it to the kitchen. He stared out the window looking at a world below that he thought he should know better than he did.

  At least the sun set as he had always known it to. The suite was large, but Orleans locked many of the rooms before she left. All six of them sprawled out on the floor in one of the great rooms. They rearranged some of the furniture pushing two couches together to create a larger sleeping surface. This was for the women. Tuck and the professor chose the floor.

  After finding enough blankets and pillows in an unlocked hallway closet they made themselves comfortable. Postulis was already asleep without either; snoring louder than any of the others.

  Tuck could not sleep. It wasn’t the snoring that kept him up. That mermaid, Citra, had asked about him. As much as he tried he could not remember anything before he enrolled in the military. He had memories, but they seemed so…artificial. They were incomplete, but then none of his memories were perfect snapshots. Newer memories, though, felt different than his oldest ones. What had happened? Was he in an accident? Did he have some sort of military brain enhancement? Doubtful. That would be of no use. If it was true then his talents, whatever they were, sat wasted on him. His platoon of assessors didn’t have them. And he performed his job just as well as them.

  Who am I?

  Slowly, his thoughts drove across his mind. No matter how he approached his past he could not figure it out. He rolled to his side uncomfortably resting on his pistol. He did not care to move it. That would be too much work. Subconsciously, he realized he was tired now, but the ache the pistol created was too annoying to allow him to sleep. He flipped to his other side.

  Avers.

  Her head poked out from the end of the couch. From across the room he could tell that she was not sleeping either. How long had she been watching him toss and turn? He did not move. Just watched in return.

  It could have been all night. He did not check the time. They both lay, motionless, facing each other.

  Eventually, the moon cast its soft light through the large windows revealing more of her. She seemed so tender in that moment. A young woman perhaps. Beautiful and sincere. If he was closer would he smell flowers?

  He knew that this was not her. She was Major Avers and tomorrow they would fight.

  Issue #3 is done! I hope you liked it. What will Tuck and Avers fight about next? You will have to come back November 1, 2015, to see.

  Here’s the cover for #4 Plug Me In. This is the final installment. Special thanks to artist Joe Yamakawa for making it. You can visit him at https://www.facebook.com/joeisaguy

 

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