Flux Runners

by William Joseph Roberts

  “Ooo, that's a good one,” Willy said, pointing at the glass-enclosed catalog.

  “Oh no, here's the one we need.” Danny tapped in the code for the track he wanted, one, nine, eight, four, then trotted off to a nearby table. “Oh yeah, baby! Here we go!” He climbed onto the table, wiped the sweat from his shaved head, straightened his goatee then clapped in anticipation. His arms shot skyward in praise as the song began. He sang along with the opening vocals, “Ahhhhhh, yeah! Come on everyone,” he shouted between the verses then continued to sing along with the song.

  The crowd clapped and stomped their feet to the beat of Queen’s, Fat bottom girls. He clasped his hands behind his head and began a pelvic thrust to the time of the song.

  Kara, Krista, and Maggie all tore small strips of napkins began to resemble ancient paper money and waved it in Danny’s direction.

  “Now you see…,” Chris started as he turned in his seat and spoke to Rachel at the next table. Drawing her attention away from Danny. Lizz and Tiff leaned in to hear over the music. “My brothers used to hold me down and try to torture me when we were younger. They'd use duct tape, or rope, or hell, just about anything they could get their hands on to tie me up with. Then they'd heat up the ends of paper clips with a lighter and use em’ to pierce my nipples.”

  Lizz and Tiff both gasped at the thought, rubbing their own, now erect nipples. Rachel leaned in closer and placed her elbows on the table.

  “See, then one day, they had this bright idea to get a set of gator clips. Ya know, like jumper cables, only smaller. Ya know the kind that you use with a multimeter for checking wires for current. Well, they'd take turns hooking them up to different batteries or little generators, or they'd just plug them into the wall. They always wanted me to scream for mercy, but I never would.” A look of inner reflection washed over his face for a moment, then he continued, snapping out of his daze with a snort. “I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point, I really started to like it.” He grinned a rotten, crooked tooth smile and casually set a battery on the table along with a set of alligator-clip wires.

  “Oh, hey now,” Tiff said as she sat back.

  “Wanna try it?” Chris’s unibrow wriggled with hopeful anticipation. “My wife won't hook me up, but she's fine with me being hooked up by someone else.” He smiled a hopeless smile.

  Rachel blankly stared across the table at him.

  “No?” He asked in a hopeful tone. “Ya’ really don't know what you're missing. I’ll tell ya what, how about you catch me later if you change your mind.” He gathered up the clips and put them back into his jacket pocket.

  “Ya know, I joined up for the cheap beer and the chance to blow some shit up,” Danny shouted as he leapt down from the table. “But I have yet to blow some shit up.” He took his seat and poured another beer from the pitcher.

  “This one time,” Andy started, then took a sip of his beer. “I managed to blow out an airlock using only a can of lubricant and a nine-volt battery.”

  “Well this one time we put cherry bombs in the courthouse mailbox,” Chris said, making the motion for an explosion.

  “Oh hell, that's nothing,” Danny bragged. “Have you ever seen what a quarter stick of dynamite will do to a cop car's exhaust?”

  “This one time,” Andy said, “my father in law had me climb under the house to figure out why the drains kept clogging up. Nothing I did seemed to help. The pipes were this old cast iron looking stuff. So, I opened it up at a y junction, lit and shoved one of those fountain things into it and then closed it back up. Figured it would burn it all out. Turns out the fountain was one of those kinds that had aerial rounds built-in that explode way up in the sky. By the time I came back out from under there, I was covered head to toe in sewage.”

  “That's a pretty shitty situation if you ask me,” Danny said, in an uninterested tone.

  “Shit,” Chris slurred. “That's still nothing, man. I tell you what,” Chris stammered as he uncomfortably rocked in his seat. “You should have seen what happened after my brothers shoved a Whistlin' Bunghole up my bunghole and lit it.”

  . “Hell, this one time...”

  “Doug,” Lizz shouted, catching a glimpse of the Captain as he entered the cantina. She snatched up her drink and hurried behind him as he headed for the stairs to the upper level.

  “What are you smiling about?” Doug asked Trae as he approached the load-masters perch on the upper level of the cantina.

  “Oh, I'm just watching for the moment that the paradox forms around those three from the high levels of bullshit they are throwing at each other,” Trae said pointing at Danny, Andy, and Chris. “I figure it'll hit critical mass any time now and a singularity will form, then collapse and wipe out all of reality.”

  Doug blankly stared at Trae as he fought to hold back a laugh.

  “You ready to get this over with?” Trae asked with a sidelong glance. “It's only right that the community knows what happened.”

  “Then you know what I have to do,” Doug reluctantly sighed.

  “Yeah,” Trae said, nodding. He stared down at the people below. “I talked it over with Tiff. She doesn't like it, but she knows for the grand scheme that it's the right choice.” Trae straightened and stood square to Doug. “We're both good with it. You do what you need to do,” he said resignedly.

  “So, you have my back? No questions asked?”

  “Nope,” Trae said. “I’m all in, boss.”

  “Alright then,” Doug said. “I'll get this shindig started if you want to go ahead and bring them in. Take Willy and Fergus with you.”

  “Aye, Cap,” Trae said then made his way down the stairs and out of the cantina.

  Lizz approached and placed a gentle hand on Doug's shoulder. “It's what needs to be done, Doug. Don't doubt yourself or your decision.”

  Doug took a deep breath and stepped to the edge of the railing. He watched the people below with interested delight. Cheerful conversation, laughter, and haughty challenges all mingled with the melodic tones of Black Sabbath’s War Pigs from the jukebox.

  “I'm not doubting,” he whispered. “I just don't like that we've come to this so quickly. I'm starting to wonder if we even belong out here in the stars. We are so self-destructive on our own as it is, what's going to happen when we add alien tech and influence into the mix? Or what if they find out about Earth? What happens then?”

  “You're doubting yourself, Doug,” Lizz quietly comforted. “Stop it. You cannot control the actions of the people under us. You can only lead by example. Set the standard for everyone to follow and hope. At that point, all you can do is hope. Otherwise, we move forward and plan for the future. Those who wish to be part of this will be. Those who are out for something else will eventually fall by the wayside and go their own direction or be forcibly removed from our path.”

  “I suppose you're right,” he sighed. “Guess I should get this show on the road.” He cupped his hands and took a deep breath.

  “Listen up!”

  The entire cantina went silent and turned to look upward in Doug’s direction.

  “If someone is missing, it is all of your responsibility to fill them in on all of this later.” Doug nervously cleared his throat. “We are trying to establish and build something here, that will outlive all of us. It could possibly even outlive our children or even our grandchildren. We are the first humans to colonize a world outside of our home star system. For those who haven't been informed yet, you are on the only habitable planet in the Gamma Draconis star system, which just happens to be over one hundred light-years from Earth in the Draco constellation.” He proudly looked down at all of the faces that stared back at him. “I had the final say on hiring each and every one of you. I was the one who brought you all this way from Earth, and therefore I am ultimately responsible for each and every one of you. All that I really ask is that you do your jobs and that you use some common sense.” He glared about the room and slowly started for the steps. “We will work as
a community,” he continued as he started down the stairs. “We will work together to build something great; something that future generations will be proud of because we are now the pioneers of mankind. We are the new explorers. We are on the edge of the great unknown!” He quickly made his way to the bottom of the stairs.

  “We have in our possession, proof of alien races and have even made contact with the ancient race of this planet, the Chinchassin’s,” Doug nodded in the direction of Casraownan and the other few cats who attended the gathering. “Their people have managed to survive some cataclysm that we have yet to ascertain.” He smiled at the gathered crowd as he reached the bottom of the steps. “Unless someone back on earth attempts to hide the facts, we have already made the history books, people! And all that pass through these halls will be listed as such. We will document and record every name for posterity's sake. I promise each of you that. You have created a legacy that will continue for all time.”

  Doug glanced sideways as movement from the main entrance caught his eye. Trae led a bound and hooded man into the doorway. Doug nodded for him to enter.

  “Up until this point, we have been flying by the seat of our pants. We haven't had a need for rules or laws beyond the standard shipboard rank structure. Up until now, everything has been perfectly fine, flowing along fluidly as it should be,” he said as he paced.

  Trae, Willy, and Fergus led the hooded figures into the cantina, stopping just inside the doorway. “Prisoners, on your knees,” Trae ordered. The three figures complained but knelt.

  Doug forced his eyes away from the prisoners and focused on the gathered crowd. He took a deep breath, then continued.

  “That being said, we have had an incident.” Doug ripped the hood away from the figure led by Trae. One side of his face was deformed from swelling and bruising. “Brody Blackford,” Doug said loudly, then ripped away from the hoods from the two other prisoners. “Jessie Sharpe and Jake Hansen. You have each been implicated and charged with the attempted rape of Tiffany Crowley.” Doug’s nostrils flared.

  “Rape is not...and will not be an acceptable option! I don’t care who you are or what you do. It will ... NOT ... be ... tolerated!” Doug's face turned an odd shade of plum red. “I hired each and every one of you. I am responsible for every soul here. I am the Captain,” he said, scowling about the room.

  So many new faces stared back at him. Some scared, some anxious, while others grinned in anticipation at what was about to happen to the prisoners. Doug walked around and stood in front of the three men. He angrily sucked on his teeth.

  “Before this community of gathered souls, do you freely admit to the charges of attempted rape of Tiffany Crowley?”

  “Fuck you dip shit.” Brody spat at Doug. A bloody yellow, puss scented wad landed on Doug's left pant leg.

  Doug sighed, then turned his gaze to the other two men who knelt on either side of Brody. “The both of you stated, to Lizz, the Overseer, that Brody instigated and initiated the rape. Is this correct?”

  Both men quietly nodded with mumbled yes sir’s from under their breaths.

  “Fuck all of y'all,” Brody shouted. “Guy can't have a little fun every now and then?”

  Doug’s face stretched in a grin that seemed wider than a clown’s painted smile. “Don't get me wrong, gentlemen. I can completely understand the need to get lucky. Hell, I want to get lucky. I'd love to be getting lucky right the fuck now. How about everyone else?” He spread his arms wide to include the crowd that filled the cantina. “Anyone else in here wishes that they were getting lucky right now instead of being here?”

  Whoops and cheers mingled with the silent replies of raised hands and murmured yes's from the crowd.

  “Rape is not the way!” Doug glared at the crowd. His gaze bore into each individual present. “Find someone willing or take matters into your own hands. It's as simple as that, and no one gets hurt that way.” Doug quietly squared himself off in front of the man named Brody. His eyes burned with rage as straightened before the prisoner. “Any last words before you are sentenced, Mr. Blackford?”

  Brody looked around, confused. “What the hell? Are you fuc...”

  The echoing report of Doug's now smoking, antique revolver cut the convicted man’s words short. A rivulet of blood trickled down from the entrance point of the 0.45 caliber round that suddenly appeared between Brody’s eyes. Doug holstered his weapon before the still-warm body unceremoniously slumped to the floor. He quietly stood quiet for a moment, breathing deep, centering himself. He removed his long leather trench coat and covered the now motionless form.

  Individual gasps and whispers became quiet sobs and tear-filled coughs among the crowd.

  “By ships law, I am the Captain and I have the final say. If you're hired on, then you're hired on. That's that. You follow my rules, which aren't many, and merely common sense. But rape, WILL...NOT...be tolerated, and henceforth will be punishable by an early grave.” Doug looked up and nodded to Trae and Fergus then looked to the other two prisoners. “Would you two please be so kind as to pick up your friendly fellow there and carry him to his final resting place,” Doug said to the prisoners. “Trae and Fergus will show you where.”

  Trae and Fergus grabbed their respective prisoners by their shoulders and forced them to their feet. “Pick him up and let’s go,” Fergus ordered.

  The two men slowly lifted the body and shuffled from the room.

  “As you all know by now, we have a possible threat to what we are building here. If anyone wishes to back out, you can. Contracts can be nullified. We are not unreasonable and know that there must be an allowable amount of flexibility when unforeseen circumstances arise. If you wish to cancel the agreement and go back Earthside, then you’ll be on the next run back, whenever that may be. However, if you decide to stay, then the contract stands as is. You were hired to do a job, so do the fucking job. It's that fucking simple.”

  He casually sat on a nearby table and grimaced as he stretched his sore, broken ribs. “I promise, things will get better. Right now, we are just beginning to establish our colony. So, bear with us and I promise, it will get better.”

  “What about the aliens,” an unfamiliar voice in the crowd asked. “I mean, will we be safe here?”

  “Stand up or come forward or something. I can't see who I'm talking to,” Doug said, craning his neck about.

  “I'm sorry. Excuse me,” a tall, dark and clean-cut man said as he pushed his way through the crowd.

  “There are so many new faces that I just don't recall you,” Doug said apologetically. “What's your name?”

  The clean-cut young man nudged his dark-rimmed glasses up his nose in that nerdy, Clark Kent kinda way. “Benjamin sir. Benjamin Tyler Swanson,” he said proudly. “You negotiated mine and my wife's contracts with the University of Pennsylvania in exchange for archaeological research rights.”

  “Oh... I remember now. You were excited to begin studies on the Chinchassans and their ancient culture.”

  “Yes sir. I am very interested to learn everything that we can about these Chinchassans,” he slowly pronounced. He glanced toward Cass and the few other cats who had decided to attend.

  “They will be the first spacefaring alien race documented by mankind. It's amazingly fascinating.” He nervously pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again, “But what do you plan to do about these new aliens? The Red’s, I think I heard someone else call them?”

  “To start with,” Doug began, then motioned to Mel for a drink. He cleared his dry throat, then continued. “Fergus and Wes have been working to arm and reprogram the existing satellite network for our use only. They may not be fully armed yet, but we do have some defensive capability available to us. There will also be a team assigned to salvage whatever we can from the defeated alien vessels and incorporate it into the Ethel. Not only will she be an orbital factory ship, but she will also act as a defensive platform. That team will be determined after the new, primary mission roster has been filled
.”

  Doug smiled with a sigh of relief as Mel delivered a glass of golden amber to his hands. He took a long draw from the glass, then continued.

  “We need a team of volunteers to hunt down the Red's. We are going to find out who they are and what they want. If at all possible, perhaps we can negotiate some sort of agreement with them or at least figure out how to stop them. Additional to that, we will be mapping the flux points. The team will take the Veronica and jump from one point to the next, mapping out possible trade routes that we can use in the future.”

  “Do we get hazard pay?” Someone in the crowd shouted.

  “Yes,” Doug replied without hesitation. “Contracts of the volunteers will be adjusted to reflect an additional two percent for the duration of the voyage. Otherwise, I have some special assignments for a few of you that, will not,” he emphasized, “be going on the hunting trip. Geek and Cheezy fall into this category for obvious reasons. Anyone that wants to throw their hat in the ring, step right up and sign away your soul,” he said with a flourish, pointing toward Lizz.”

  “Very funny, Doug,” Lizz laughed sardonically. “Remember, volunteers only. Do not feel pressured or obligated in any way.”

  Doctor Fillmore pushed her way through the now dispersing crowd and eagerly stood before Lizz. “I'd like to sign up, please.”

  “Only just arrived and ready to leave us?” Lizz asked.

  “No.” She searched her mind for the proper response. “It just sounds like it would be much more exciting than patching up scrapes and burns on dirty old miners.”

  “It does, doesn't it,” Lizz agreed. “Unfortunately, I'll be here attending to plans to make this place into something.

  “Goddammit! Let go of me,” Amanda shouted. She jerked her arm out of Krista's grasp. “Maybe for once, I can be useful. Maybe for once, I will be able to earn my keep. And maybe, just maybe I might learn something useful from a real doctor instead of some rainbows and butterfly’s charlatan.” She stomped over and stood next to Doctor Fillmore.