by Kal Spriggs
Pixel sighed as he walked up to the next compartment. Having no one to share this with really takes a lot of the fun out of it, he thought as he toggled the hatch open. His eyes lit up as he saw the banks of capacitors in that room, “Oh, cool.”
* * *
Pixel had managed to bury himself head first into what he thought was the control panel for the ship’s defense screen when he felt someone tap him on the back. He started and he yelped as his hand slipped and rubbed against an open circuit. He pulled himself carefully out of the controls and then rubbed at his forearm gingerly.
“I have work for you to do,” Run said from behind him.
“I have lots of work for me to do already,” Pixel said.
“This must be a priority. I insist that you do it, and if you reject my logical demands, I will be forced to use my command voice,” Run said.
The little Chxor stood calmly and Pixel could only shake his head. “You know, asking politely might get you further than demands.”
Run held out his hand, and Pixel recognized the dart gun. “I need this made better. I need to be able to shoot multiple darts.”
“Oh, cool,” Pixel said, his disagreement suddenly forgotten. He gingerly took the tiny gun and examined it. “Compressed air to fire, huh? You must be running low on that. And on darts.” He pulled two pins out of the side and then opened it up and examined it. “Wow, this is actually pretty well designed! Who did this for you?”
Run nodded, “I put it together in my lab as a security measure. Mechanical parts are not my primary interest or area of study, but I find the ability to make such simple things useful. It allows me to make tools. It saves me time from having to explain what I want from lesser minds.”
Pixel found himself nodding, “I can see that, actually. And having multiple skill sets is useful. So… what do you want me to do? I assume if you just wanted the air tank refilled or more darts you could do that yourself.”
“This is an accurate assumption,” Run nodded. “It is good to discuss this with someone whose intellect somewhat approaches my own.” He pulled out a real pistol and held it out. Pixel took it even more carefully than he took the dart gun. He felt more than a little nervous about guns. “I would like to integrate features from this design into the other. A storage place for additional darts and a means to fire multiple times without reloading.”
“Ah, a magazine and semi-automatic fire,” Pixel nodded. “I like that, it sounds like an interesting build.” He looked down at the dart gun, “I can do that.” His mind ranged over the possibilities, but then he cocked his head, “How about a deal?”
“A deal?” Run asked.
“Yeah, I make this for you but in return you give me some of your knock-out solution for Wrethe, Humans, Ghornath, and Chxor,” Pixel said. He didn’t think he’d go with a dart gun like Run’s, in fact, he felt an idea had begun to percolate.
“You assume that I will manufacture more of my pacification drugs,” Run said. The Chxor contemplated him for a long moment in silence. His pale yellow eyes and gray skin made him look distinctly alien, despite his outwardly similar physiology. “That is a valid assumption. I do not see the purpose, however, of making Chxor drugs.”
Pixel thought that one through. He thought very carefully of how to talk around the fact that he might need to tranquilize Run. “We are still in Chxor space and we have at least one Chxor prisoner aboard.” Pixel suddenly wondered where the others had put the Chxor officer and if they had captured any of her guards alive as well. “Therefore, I will have use for it.”
“Agreed,” Run nodded. “I will accept this mutually beneficial arrangement. When can I pick up my new pacification device?” He seemed to hesitate, “It took me two weeks to construct this one, and I understand that your inferior brain may take longer to make the necessary improvements….”
Pixel shrugged, “This afternoon, I think.”
Pixel’s offhand reply seemed to paralyze Run. It took the little Chxor a long moment to speak, “Clearly, your brain works better at mechanical problems than I thought. Perhaps your intelligence is greater than expected. I must assume this is due to your ability to ignore such things as emotions and to reject the illogical hormonal behavior common in other humans.”
Pixel shrugged, “Nope, I get emotional at times and I have plenty of hormones.” He tried not to think about what had happened to his last girlfriend. Suddenly he didn’t want to talk with Run anymore. “Hey, I’ve got to finish up this examination here, but I’ll bring it by along with a design sketch and you can tell me what you think later today.”
“This is acceptable,” Run nodded. “Also, I will have a document for you to sign. I find your intelligence to be an anomaly and I would like your permission to examine your brain.”
“Sorry, little guy, I think I need my brain. Some other time, maybe,” Pixel said with a smile.
“This is understandable,” Run gave him a nod and walked away.
Pixel tucked both the tranquilizer gun and the pistol away in his pockets. He tapped a reminder into his datapad, and then frowned as a scrawl of Chxor glyphs appeared on the screen. He really needed to get a human standard operating system. He had heard good things about a Linux kernel…
Pixel glanced at the defense screen console and then at the list of other things he wanted to check out. The one that really seemed significant was the fusion reactor output. Either some of the ship’s damaged systems drained more power than they should, or the reactor did not put out the right level of power in the first place. Either way, Pixel felt he needed to find out the cause. Though Eric had destroyed the capacitors for the primary weapon, the secondary weapons still functioned. The lighter secondary weapons primary purpose lay in fighter or missile interception. The ship’s other systems, to include the defense screen, drained too much power to make even those secondary weapons operational.
Pixel glanced at the schematics for the reactor and then made yet another note to have Rastar translate what he could when he got the opportunity. In the meantime, Pixel closed the panel for the defense screen and tucked his datapad in the oversized pocket on his hip. Time for me to see what this baby has under her skirt, Pixel thought. With how the Ghornath sized the ship for their access, he always seemed to have plenty of room to get inside the guts of the equipment and get his hands dirty. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and got to work.
* * *
Pixel wiped at the grease on his hands as he stepped into the galley. He should have cleaned up at the workshop sink in the engine room, he knew. But he hadn’t put a stool in there yet, so he couldn’t reach the faucet without the need to balance on the edge of the sink. Sometimes there are penalties to oversized ships, he figured.
“Stop right there,” Simon said.
“What?” Pixel asked.
“We’ve instituted a daily cooking cycle. Unless you’re on the list, you pick up food in the lounge,” Simon said. The former policeman looked sternly at Pixel.
“We have a lounge?” Pixel asked
Simon’s gaze dropped to Pixel’s hands, “You need to wash up too. How did you get so dirty?”
“Yeah, um, working?” Pixel said. He looked around, “Where’s the lounge anyway?”
“Down the corridor another five meters, on the left side,” Simon said.
“Starboard side,” Pixel corrected. Not that he cared, but Simon seemed so precise about everything else, he might as well use the right terms if he wanted to boss people around aboard a ship.
“Right, starboard,” Simon nodded.
“Yeah… not right, starboard,” Pixel shook his head, “Left is starboard, right is port, unless you face aft, then right is starboard and left is port.”
Simon didn’t respond. Pixel thought he saw his eyelid twitch.
Just then Eric stepped into the galley followed by Rastar, “So then there I was, no shit, right in the middle of a swarm of those Seppie bastards with no ammo and bare assed naked except for my-”
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“The galley is off limits unless you have kitchen duty,” Simon snapped.
“Hey man, we’re just here to get a snack, lots of work to do down in the armory,” Rastar said. Pixel looked up at the big alien and then suddenly wished he had not. The glare and clash of colors on his shirt almost induced an epileptic fit. Some of those colors shouldn’t be legal, he thought, much less allowed on the same shirt.
“Is that a Hawaiian shirt?” Simon asked. His mouth went agape at the rape of his visual cortex.
Rastar stuck his chest out and spread his four arms, as if particularly proud of it, “Ain’t it cool, man? I found a whole closet full of them in the bunk room. Dunno what happened to the crew, but some of them had some good taste, huh?”
“Are you serious?” Simon said. “Who the hell makes Ghornath sized and shaped Hawaiian shirts?”
Eric looked at Rastar, “Dunno, but I wish I could get some new clothes. There’s a laundry near the cabins, but this suit I’ve worn still smells like sweat after three times through. I think Rastar really lucked out with his find.”
“You do?” Pixel asked.
“Yeah,” Eric nodded, “I mean, you can conceal all kinds of weapons under a Hawaiian print, it breaks up your shape pretty well, excellent for concealed carry.”
“I think I want to puke,” Simon said.
“Hey, man, no need to be jealous,” Rastar said and slapped Simon on the shoulder, “I’m sure we can find some your size when we get to civilized space.” Rastar continued past the stunned man and opened the nearest refrigerator. “Ah, excellent, someone stocked some Coca Cola! I’ll just take two, since I’m on duty….”
“I’ll take one, too,” Eric said.
Rastar gave a snort, “Lightweight. Alright, what else do we have here?”
“I said earlier that unless you’re assigned to kitchen duty you get your meals in the lounge, and the next meal starts in an hour,” Simon said. His glare might have worked better if he hadn’t had to squint and look to the side against Rastar’s shirt, Pixel noted.
“Sure thing, man, we’ll be out of your hair in a second,” Rastar waved one hand while his other three pilfered through the refrigerator.
“Way to come up with some pointless bullshit,” Eric grunted around a mouthful of something brown and crunchy, “Besides, who are you to make that decision? We’ve got plenty of food now, right? No need to ration.”
“We would have plenty of food, except the other escapees tore this place apart and spoiled about half of it for long term storage, so we have to eat it all-” Simon broke off, “Rastar, did you just stick an entire jar of mayonnaise in your pocket?”
Rastar looked up, “Yeah, goes great with the pickle and anchovies toppings for the pizza. Really pulls it all together. Say, do you mind if I take the rest of this flour?”
“Where are you going to cook a pizza, if not in the galley?” Pixel asked.
“There’s a camp stove down in the Armory, I figured I’d just cook it down there while I worked,” Rastar said. He snagged a six pack of Coca Cola bottles, “And… some for the road. See you guys later!”
Simon stared at the mess that the pair had left of the previously ordered refrigerator. Something about the set of his shoulders suggested the stance of a broken man to Pixel. “Who’s got cooking detail, anyway?” Pixel asked cheerfully.
Just then, Run the Chxor stepped out of the back of the galley. He carried two trays covered with a mix of food. The smell that came off them resembled nothing so much as scorched rubber. “I have prepared food for my experimental subjects. I will require time to take notes and observe their eating habits before I can clean my laboratory.”
Simon looked at Run and then shook his head, “Right, whatever.” He looked over at Pixel. “This is why we need a captain. Those two just destroyed a good hour’s worth of work.”
“Do you think that organizing food is the best use of your abilities?” Pixel asked.
Simon gave him a glare, “Someone has to do it. As far as I know, Ariadne and Mike haven’t interviewed anyone they trust with food yet.”
Pixel tried very hard and quite unsuccessfully to contain his smile, “So, you put Run to cooking?”
“I am very well versed in the nutritional requirements of humans,” Run said. “I carefully meted out those requirements from a variety of foods available and then processed them together and heated them to neutralize any bacteria, viruses, and other contaminants.” He looked down at the blackened bars, “They are very healthy, I assure you.”
Pixel gave a sigh, “Run, one of those illogical things about humans… we like to eat things that taste good - health is a secondary factor.”
“Taste…” Run nodded. “I will add this factor to the others. What is a good paradigm for taste factors?”
“Try a cookbook,” Pixel said. “You can’t go wrong if you work your way through a cookbook.” He stepped around Simon and then pulled a box of cereal bars off the top shelf of the pantry. “In the meantime, I’ll munch on these, thanks guys.”
“Where you going?” Simon asked.
“Armory, I think,” Pixel said. “I need to drop off a pistol and then I wanted to check out some of the power drain that I saw from there.”
“I’ll join you,” Simon said. “I want to check this pistol in and see if I can get something more reliable. The Chxor don’t seem too high tech regarding small arms.” The other man followed him out of the galley.
Pixel led the way down the corridor. He liked Simon better when the former cop didn’t try to boss anyone around, “Their mechanical stuff seems to work just fine. And it’s easier to produce in mass from an engineering standpoint. I had a friend who was something of a weapon historian, he said that his favorite firearms came from the twentieth century. He claimed everything since then is derivative.”
“Your friend sounds like a smart man,” Simon said as they went down a ladder. “Maybe you can introduce me to him when we get back. I’m something of a weapon collector… well, I was. I had an original magnum forty four… and a few replicas of some other classic pistols.”
“Unfortunately, Jack wound up dead,” Pixel said softly. “I think you two wouldn’t have got along anyway; he was something of a firebrand.”
“My condolences, friend,” Simon put his hand on Pixel’s shoulder and he cleared his throat. Simon drew and held up his pistol, “I just don’t like the small caliber round on this one, truth to tell, and the weird slide mechanism. Damn thing cut me open a couple times already. Plus, the grip feels wrong, somehow.”
Pixel nodded, “Yeah, well, Chxor designs, so they probably didn’t bother too much with ergonomics or anything like that. They just don’t seem to consider things like comfort and ease of use. Also, the Chxor hands are shaped different than ours - one less knuckle so they hold things different.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Simon said. “But that makes sense.”
They turned a corner and stopped in front of a heavily armored hatch. Pixel waved his hand over the control and it slid open.
Rastar and Eric looked up. They both stood over a bench, which lay covered with weapons, pieces of weapons, and ammunition. Pixel gave a long whistle.
“What is that?” Simon pointed at something that looked vaguely like a metal spider the size of a polar bear. It hung from a rack in the corner, and Pixel saw that numerous cables and wires led into it.
“It’s a Wrostact Mark Seven Ghornath Power Armor,” Rastar said, as he set down a case of ammunition. “And I think it’s missing some pieces.” Pixel saw the big Ghornath shift colors to a slightly pale tan, “Pixel, I know you are very busy, however….”
“You want to know if I can take a look at it?” Pixel asked. “Sure, when I get time. In exchange, I need you to come down to the engine room and do some translating sometime in the next couple days, deal?” After he saw Rastar nod, he pointed at the cables attached to the suit, “I noticed a big power drain in here, is it from that?”
“
Uh, that’s probably from these: we just plugged them in to charge,” Eric said. He pointed at a rack of weapons. Each of them seemed too big for a normal person, though when Pixel looked at Rastar he thought they seemed the right size. They all had thick black boxes with indicator lights instead of magazines and Pixel felt a start of surprise as he realized what that meant.
“Are those energy weapons? Like laser guns and that sort of thing?” Pixel’s voice nearly broke with excitement. I want to take them apart right now, he thought. Energy weapons were still extremely rare throughout human space. Lightweight and reliable was still out o reach, and most such weapons were both extremely expensive and extremely temperamental.
Rastar flushed green, “Indeed, quality Ghornath manufacture. The two medium sized weapons are pulse guns, the smallest is a pistol, and the largest is a pulse rifle.” He reached out and stroked the weapons with one hand, “They are priceless, as the Nova Romans destroyed the Koman Defense Factory during their invasion. Most of the engineers and experts who designed these weapons died during the raid.”
“Wow,” Pixel said. I really want to take them apart now, he thought.
“Those will be confiscated on the first civilized world we come to,” Simon said. “There’s no way they’d let civilians have them.”
“Only if we tell someone,” Eric said. He got up and pulled the pulse rifle off the rack. He flipped a switch and a hologram flickered into existence above the top. “It’s got holographic sights, and Rastar says the manufacturer guarantees a factory zero out to a kilometer… and that is without a scope. A kilometer! Can you imagine what I could do with this?”
“What’s that writing painted on the side?” Pixel asked. It looked like someone had used a paint pen or something.
“Oh… uh, I sort of named her,” Eric said, he sounded embarrassed. “Lorretta, after a girl I knew.” He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed, and walked the weapon back over to the rack.
“Someone who meant a lot to you clearly,” Pixel said. He felt a spurt of envy that the other man had someone special like that in his life. He wondered, why did women always go for the jerks?