A Swift Kick in the Asteroids

by Edward Zajac

  “Pick one!” said the guard. “And be quick about it!”

  Dahlia gestured with her chin and Rama disappeared amongst the Weiylans. He returned a few moments later with a thin, lanky Weiylan.

  “This is Talam,” said Rama. “Talam sick. Talam not have family or friends. Talam also not so smart. Talam good choice for bed.”

  Fletcher nodded, fighting back tears.

  “We don’t have time,” said the guard, striking Dahlia with her rifle. “Move, move, move!”

  “Yes, yes,” said Dahlia, scrambling outside. “Sorry, sorry.”

  The guard hustled them outside, the hangar door closing behind them with a thud. The guard then quickly pressed her back against the deusteel door, holding her rifle at an oblique angle. On the other side of the corridor, another guard shooed a pair of Weiylans into a closet then came to attention as well. In fact, everyone in the corridor stood at attention.

  All except Fletcher, Rama, and Dahlia.

  Fletcher got a sinking feeling in his stomach. The one that always came whenever trouble was afoot. A foot about to kick him in the groin.

  As if on cue, Xena Xa rounded the corner.

  Fletcher’s mouth dropped open. It was her. It was actually her. And there was Leevee walking behind her. They were both here. Zagarat had been right.

  Damn it, thought Fletcher. Aurora was going to be insufferable after this one.

  Xena walked with a regal grace, inclining her head munificently to each and every guard. She was dressed in the Ferrish fashion. She wore a simple white blouse with pearlescent buttons running all the way down to a diamond-studded black belt at her waist. A straight-hemmed black skirt hugged her body all the way to the floor, flaring out at the ankles like a blossoming flower. A lush teal cloak, cinched at the neck with a Quoren cord, draped her shoulders, billowing out behind her as she walked. Leevee, in stark contrast, was dressed in brown slacks and a white button-down shirt.

  Dahlia and Rama immediately dropped their heads, as if unworthy to even gaze upon her loveliness. Fletcher did no such thing. He simply nodded when Xena smiled at him, all the while imagining his hands about her throat.

  It was almost as if Xena Xa was telepathic because just as Fletcher imagined himself choking the life from her lungs, she stopped and turned back towards him.

  “Eh, fellot,” said Fletcher under his breath.

  She stared at his uniform.

  Please keep moving, please keep moving, thought Fletcher, hoping the universe was listening.

  But the universe evidently was out for lunch at that moment because Xena Xa walked right up to him and said, “KweeKore. That’s Geffen, isn’t it?” Fletcher nodded. “Oh, I spent a semester at Ulla Ulta University. I loved it so much. Oo-se-on-on-ing?”

  Fletcher puckered his lips. Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad.

  He had to do something. But what?

  He tried shaking his head from side to side. But Xena merely frowned in confusion. Then he tried nodding up and down, but evidently that wasn’t the right answer either because she just squinted as if perplexed.

  Oh, this was bad, thought Fletcher. This was very bad.

  Just then, a voice whispered in his head, “Fletcher!”

  Out of sheer instinct, Fletcher threw his arms out to his sides, squatting down as if about to pounce on some invisible prey he alone could see. Or hear in this case.

  Xena Xa instantly recoiled backwards, startled. At the same time, twenty rifles took aim at twenty different spots on Fletcher’s body, most of which he preferred to keep riddle-free.

  “Fletcher, it’s me,” said the voice in his helmet. “Zag. Can you hear me?”

  “Mm-hmm,” squeaked Fletcher, all the while eyeing his escape route, which was based on a single mode of transportation: running.

  “Good,” said Zagarat. “Now say, ‘Meh-sah, ei-oti-elle-ah.’ Then point at the helmet.”

  Fletcher licked his lips. “Meh-sah, ei-oti-elle-ah,” he said pointing at his helmet, all the while noting the position of every guard he was about to kill. Or at least maim.

  The next few seconds were agonizing, each second seemingly to last an earth year. Xena Xa just stood there staring at him, her expression absolutely blank.

  Finally, she waved her hand dismissively and the guards lowered their weapons.

  “Did it work?” asked Zagarat, sounding rather excited.

  “Mm-hmm,” said Fletcher, slowly straightening himself.

  “Coo-emmet-no-eck?” Xena Xa asked. Or so Fletcher guessed by her inflection.

  “Nod,” said Zagarat.

  Fletcher nodded.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” said Xena. “Leevee, could you take a look at KweeKore’s helmet for me and see what’s wrong with it?”

  “Uh-oh,” said Zagarat. Fletcher couldn’t help but share the sentiment.

  Leevee looked up from his PCD. “Xena, could we do this later? I’m having trouble syncing with the ship. Plus, I’d really like to see how they’re progressing in the lab.”

  “Of course,” said Xena. She tapped Fletcher on the forearm. “We’ll talk later.”

  With one last munificent smile, four guards led Xena Xa and Leevee onto the maglift. Once they disappeared from sight, Fletcher leaned hard against the plasticene wall.

  Suns, that could have been bad. Luckily, Zag saved the day. Although, how he did it was a mystery to Fletcher.

  A mystery Fletcher wanted to solve.

  ag!”

  Zagarat jerked back in surprise, a myriad array of electronic components, harnesses, and wires falling into his lap. He looked up. Fletcher Griffin stood staring at him. The privateer then leaned forward and rested his elbows on a deusteel crate, cradling his face in the palms of his hands. “Whatcha doin?” he said with a playfulness that belied the fire in his eyes.

  Zag awkwardly covered his handiwork with his arms. “Nothing.”

  “Really?” said Fletcher. “Because it doesn’t look like nothing. It kinda looks like you disassembled five biodisplays.”

  “Only the broken ones,” said Zagarat under his breath, avoiding any eye contact.

  “And what are those?” said Fletcher, pointing.

  “RT-48 coupling cables,” said Zagarat, meekly. “The crate was full of them.”

  “And what’s that?” said Fletcher, pointing at the wall.

  “An access panel,” said Zagarat, just as meekly.

  “And why is it open? And why are the cables sticking out of the panel right now?”

  “Um,” said Zagarat, nibbling on his fingernail. “I might have, um, tapped into the local network via the hardline.”

  “And why would you do something like that?” said Fletcher, his tone devoid of emotion.

  Zagarat wanted to say a lot of things at that moment. He wanted to say that he was tired of doing nothing and just wanted to help. He wanted to say that he was curious what OS the biocomp used. Then he wanted to see if he could couple a few biocomps together and create a powerful super biocomp. Then he wanted to see if he could couple the super biocomp to the green ionic cable and then slip inside their network unnoticed.

  He wanted to say all that. But he didn’t. What he actually said was, “I got bored.”

  “You got bored,” Fletcher repeated, nodding to himself. “Would you stand up please?”

  “What?” said Zagarat, the blood draining from his face as if fleeing a sinking ship.

  “Stand up,” said Fletcher, more stridently. “Now.”

  With a grimace, Zagarat stood. It was like he was eight years old again and Mrs. Jaqs was about to reprimand him for cheating on his Universal exam. Of course, all he had to do back then was sit in the corner for the rest of the class. Zag had a feeling this punishment was going to be much worse.

  And it was. The minute Zag stood, Fletcher kissed him full on the lips.

  “Ew,” said Zagarat, dragging his sleeve across his mouth. “What is the matter with you? Why do you keep kissing me all the time?”
>
  “Because I love ya,” said Fletcher, grinning. “You saved my meteorites back there. How did you do it?”

  “It was actually pretty simple,” said Zagarat, dabbing at the remaining slobber on his lips. “First, I reset the OS to basic. Then I coupled the biocomps together using TETHER.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Fletcher, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t care. So, what systems can you access?”

  “Just the basic ones,” said Zagarat, somewhat embarrassed. “Communication and some tier one systems like Universal translations. I was afraid to dig any deeper than that.”

  “Still, that’s pretty damn impressive.”

  “Thanks,” said Zagarat, blushing. “So, who were you talking to down there anyway? She seemed pretty fluent in Geffen.”

  “Uh, yeah, her,” said Fletcher, taking the baton of awkwardness from Zagarat. He skewed his face up tight. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

  “Oh, suns,” said Zagarat, massaging his soon to be aching head. “Who is it now?”

  “Xena Xa,” said Fletcher. “She and Leevee just arrived.”

  Zagarat’s eyes grew wide. “They’re both here? That explains the alert.”

  “What alert?” asked Fletcher.

  “Um,” said Zagarat, taking the awkward baton right back from Fletcher. “The alert they tried to send to your comm a little while back, while I was hijacking your signal. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” said Fletcher. “This could have ended a lot worse without your help.”

  Zagarat felt that strange sensation down his spine again. Something akin to pride. Well, distantly akin to pride. More like pride’s second cousin twice removed.

  “So, what’s the plan now?” asked Zagarat.

  “The plan is to get the Weiylans off this ship,” said Fletcher. “How is the tougher question. I’ll have to do a little more reconnaissance to figure that part out. Although, that might be a little harder now that Xena is aboard. That’s where I’m gonna need your help. You have to be my eyes and ears on this ship. If anything happens, comm me. Just don’t dig any deeper into their system. I don’t want them to suspect anything.”

  “Okay,” said Zagarat, taking a deep breath. “I can do that. I think.”

  Fletcher squeezed Zag’s shoulder tight. “I know you can. Remember our motto?”

  “Everything will work out fine for us,” said Zagarat.

  “That’s the one,” said Fletcher. “You just have to believe it.”

  “I’m trying,” said Zagarat. “But you make it really tough sometimes.”

  Fletcher shrugged. “What can I say? I’m me.” He slapped his hands together. “All right. I’m gonna go check out a few more floors. Stay here and stay safe. I have a feeling that by tomorrow, you, and I, and the Weiylans will be far away from here. And this ship will be a distant memory.”

  ama had just folded his bed/blanket/towel/tissue into a perfect square and was now placing it onto his table/chair/ladder when Dahlia strode inside their locker/quarters. She retrieved a wrapped package from her secret hiding place, replaced the access panel, and then strode back towards the door without saying a word to Rama.

  That might have hurt Rama’s feeling if he didn’t know Dahlia so well. He knew his clansister avoided small talk whenever possible. That was the only thing he would change about her. Otherwise, she was everything Rama wished he could be: smart, strong, fearless. In fact, the only thing she seemed to fear was that beast called emotion.

  But Rama was smart enough not to say that again. His groin hurt just thinking about it.

  “What wrong, Dahly?” asked Rama finally.

  “Nothing,” said Dahlia, placing the package on their table/chair/ladder. “Absolutely nothing. In fact, we’re leaving soon. All of us.”

  “Really?” said Rama. “But Dahly say dis might take a while.”

  “Things have changed,” she said, unwrapping the package revealing a deusteel tube. She continued unwrapping the package, until another three tubes fell into her hand.

  “What tings?” said Rama.

  “Important things,” said Dahlia, pocketing the tubes. “Your friend Fletcher Griffin is going to help us and our clansfolk escape.”

  “Oh, dat nice of him,” said Rama. “How Fletcher gonna do dat?”

  “He’s going to distract the guards for us,” said Dahlia, checking the charge of her sidearm. “Do you still have those pistols I gave you?” Rama nodded eagerly. “Good. We might need them.”

  “Should Rama give pistols to Fletcher and Zag?” asked Rama.

  Dahlia shook her head. “Nah. They won’t need it.”

  “Oh,” said Rama, frowning. “Dat weird. Dahly sure about dis?”

  “Yep,” said Dahlia, secreting the weapon away. “Just act normal until you hear the signal.”

  “What de signal?” asked Rama.

  “Trust me,” said Dahlia. “You’ll know.”

  That gave Rama pause. It also gave him an upset stomach. “Dahly,” he said plaintively. “What Dahly gonna do?”

  “What we came here to do,” said Dahlia. “Save the Weiylans and make the others pay.”

  “But Dahly…”

  Dahlia placed her hand on Rama’s shoulder. “Rama, trust me. I know what I’m doing. Do you have that special comm I gave you?” Rama nodded slowly. “Stellar. When you hear the signal, drop everything and get to the hangar. I’ll meet you there. And whatever you do, avoid the engine room. Do you understand me, Rama? Avoid the engine room.”

  Rama nodded. “Void engine room.”

  “Good,” said Dahlia, caressing his arm. “I’ll see you at the hangar. Pah-pai.”

  Rama stared at the door long after Dahlia left. He really hoped his clansister knew what she was doing. Now that Qassi was gone, he relied on her wisdom to guide him. That was why he had abandoned Kahpuani and had possibly damned his immortal soul, because Dahlia said it was the only way to save their people. And if Welan still chose to condemn them for it, then he wasn’t a god worth worshipping, now was he?

  Rama didn’t know about that so he knelt down and once again prayed for forgiveness. Then he prayed for Dahlia’s immortal soul. Then he prayed that Fletcher would help them.

  ena Xa heaved a sigh as she sat down on her luxurious Lounjay chair. The smellon feathers felt like heaven beneath her, especially after the Starlight flight she had just endured.

  She had always hated pleb class. There was never any legroom. There was never any nexus access, unless you joined the Starlight Wave Gate Club with a low, low introductory price of two hundred credits. They didn’t even serve beverages there; just purified water. It was barbaric.

  But that was all Secretary Xena Xa could afford. Entrepreneur Xena Xa however just bought her own ship. Step five in her ten-point plan for success.

  Step One was finding the next great business opportunity. That was easy. Galustay. Step Two: invest capitol in the venture. Stann had helped a great deal with that, especially after Xena ingratiated herself into his trousers. As Stann told her when they first met, a true entrepreneur will do anything to succeed. And Xena took that principle to heart. And to bed.

  That led to Step Three: establish your clientele.

  Again, easy. Execs were all too eager to spend a few credits now in the hopes of making a lot more credits later. Xena then transitioned into Step Four: surround yourself with talented sents. She started with Leevee whose love of tech was only surpassed by his love of the all-mighty credit. She then expanded her network to include a few industrious scientists and even more grunts who also dreamed of wealth. Not the kind of wealth she had in mind, of course. But a simpler kind of fortune, where they could afford to buy the entire pub a round of drinks every once in a while.

  Now, she was in the middle of Step Five: manufacturing. Her whole plan teetered on the success or failure of this step. She had to make sure that everything ran smoothly on this ship, and that was why she hired Gevron. He had a keen military mind, but more importantly he k
new how to “inspire” his employees. He was essential to this venture. That was why Xena had made him a partner in their venture despite Leevee’s concerns. Mostly, his concerns that he would lose a percentage of the profits. But Xena knew that Gevron was essential to her success and so she used her feminine wiles to change Leevee’s mind.

  And now, she had a ship. Her own ship. A new Starlight freighter, retrofitted with Exselson engines and thrusters. A ship with stealth technology and Class Eight engines. A ship that could move around the universe with impunity.

  That had been Stann’s biggest mistake. He had based his operation on Feytor Feytor Aye. Xena had no intention of repeating that disastrous blunder.

  Xena took a sip of her Bylarian Sunrise as she looked around the room. Although it looked clinically white just like the rest of her ship, Xena had plans for her bedroom as well. In addition to her Lounjay chair, she would order a Lassen four-poster bed with that billowy Aerie comforter she loved so much. She would place a few floral plants here and there, giving the room a bit of vivid life. But more importantly, she would fill the room with art. Her other true passion.

  She could see it all. Elaborate Quoren frames decorating the walls, programmed with some of the universe’s most renowned pieces of putative art. On the far wall, Ulla Mai’s SummerScape, reputed to have the most vivid strokes of emulated sunshine anywhere in the known universe. It even came with a disclaimer saying, “Prolonged viewing of this painting can cause eyespots and possible blindness. Please digisign disclaimer below before admiring.”

  Above her bed, Ka’a’ahn’s famous Portrait of A Mad Man, which was strangely a self-portrait of the artist. And just above her Lounjay, so that she could see it every time she entered her room, she would place the most resplendent picture of them all: Ahoo Ahoo’s quintessential piece of existential art, Laoo Kaoo Oh. The masterpiece was renowned for its bold colors, rash brushstrokes, and abstract meaning. Few sentients in the known universe knew exactly why Ahoo Ahoo painted in this particular style or had named the painting Laoo Kaoo Oh. But Xena did. Through extensive research, she learned that the artist suffered from astigmatism and couldn’t spell to save his life. He later took his own life because he couldn’t endure living in a universe where he was considered a prolific genius for painting a dumb little cow.