Trek It!

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  “You set out to help the downtrodden,” said Harvey, “with untold wealth at your disposal.”

  “But even then, your ugly past showed through,” explained Zep. “It didn’t take much for you to break out the fleet and threaten to invade my homeworld!”

  “Or mine!" said Harvey. “The simple fact is, you beanpoles are just too incompetent and bloodthirsty for charity work!”

  “But we can still wash away your sins!" offered Zep.

  “Oh yes,” said Harvey.

  The five Forbosians were no longer swaying. They stared silently at one another, but Murk had the sense that they were hanging on his every word.

  “No more guilt,” Harvey said reassuringly. “And no more charity scenarios to tempt your fleet.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Captain Zep, reaching up to wrap an arm around Harvey Murk’s shoulders. “It will be as easy as plucking a pigeon.”

  Looking over at his newfound partner, Harvey smirked and gave him a wink.

  *****

  As he stood amid the splendor of the vast Forbosian vault, watching his crew catalogue its glittering contents, Captain Zep sighed. His future was secure.

  Thanks to his brilliant work with Harvey Murk, Zep knew that his name would be known and honored by every Finagi. He had made the big score he’d been looking for, the biggest .

  It was the kind of history-making swindle that made Captains into heroes...and, sometimes, heroes into Grand Naguses.

  It was hard to believe. Even now, with the prize laid out before him, it seemed like a dream.

  Not only had he convinced the richest beings in the quadrant to give him all their wealth, but they were paying him to take it away!

  It was a stunning accomplishment. To his knowledge, no Finagi had ever come close to such mythic profit-taking. No Finagi had ever been so rich.

  It was a masterpiece of chicanery, a stroke of genius...and he was still so young! He was amazed that he had pulled it off!

  Well, he and Harvey Murk had pulled it off.

  Harvey Murk. Soon to be known as “old what’s-his-name.”

  Even as Zep heard Murk’s voice calling out to him, he knew for a fact that the Earther would soon be out of his lobes. Within minutes, actually.

  “Ah! Hello, Zep!" Harvey said brightly, out of breath after rushing across the vault to catch up with the Finagi. “What are we worth today, my friend?”

  “Billions and billions of bars of gold-pressed zeerite,” grinned Zep. “That’s just counting what’s in this one vault!”

  Planting his fists on his hips, Harvey danced a little jig...and it was then that Captain Zep realized he would miss the fat human.

  Murk had taught him more than he cared to admit. Murk had taught him the value of observation, research and planning; Murk had shown him new heights of trickery and obfuscation.

  Truth be told, Murk had more to do with this fabulous swindle than Zep. Murk had been the real brains of the outfit, dreaming up the perfect plan and then making it work -- convincing the Forbosians that they needed to clear their consciences by giving away everything to him and Zep...and that they ought to pay a regular fee from future earnings over and above that, to prevent future conscience pangs.

  And Harvey Murk had saved Finaginar. If not for him, Zep would be weeping like a baby as the Forbosian invasion fleet streaked toward his homeworld.

  And more than that.

  “We did it!" laughed Harvey, dancing merrily around the Finagi. “We did it we did it we did it!”

  And more than that, Zep happened to like Harvey Murk.

  “Yes, we did,” the Captain said quietly.

  “I love life!" sang Harvey. He scooped handfuls of precious gems from an overflowing bin and held them high, letting them drizzle over his face.

  But there wasn’t enough room for the both of them on Forbos. Zep wanted it all.

  So Harvey had to go...and go without a trace. The way humans were thought of on Finaginar, it would kill Zep’s career to be associated with one of them. No matter his accomplishments, he would be a laughingstock for the rest of his life.

  He knew better than the rest, knew that Harvey was the equal -- or better -- of any among them...but Forbos was the kind of strike that came along once in a lifetime.

  And Harvey Murk...

  “I’m in heaven!" hollered Harvey, draping a necklace of giant diamonds around Zep’s neck. “This is what I always thought heaven would be like!”

  And Harvey Murk was just a human.

  “Harvey,” said Zep, and then he grabbed the Earther’s arm.

  Harvey Murk stopped frolicking and smiled at the Finagi. “Yes, my bosom buddy pal?”

  Zep felt sheepish all of a sudden. He sniffed and shrugged. “I just wanted to tell you...you’ve got the lobes, Harvey Murk.”

  Harvey laughed. “Is that some kind of condition?”

  “Goodbye, Harvey,” said Zep, and then he pressed a button on his belt, sending the signal.

  A teleporter beam enveloped Harvey Murk. And he surprised the Captain.

  Quickly, the human realized what was happening...but he didn’t glare or rage against his fate. He didn’t scream or make a grab for his betrayer.

  For the split-second before the beam took him completely, he just stared at Captain Zep. He looked utterly crestfallen and disappointed; he looked like the saddest man alive.

  “Aw, Zeppy,” he said, and then he was gone.

  Zep never met him again, but he would remember that look for the rest of his long life.

  *****

  After spending a month hurtling uncontrollably through space in the cramped Finagi pod, Harvey was thrilled when he was finally picked up.

  He had no idea where he was or who his rescuers might be, and he didn’t care. He was dying to stretch his back, breathe different air...and eat something other than that terrible Finagi tube grub paste (whatever that was).

  Harvey’s back was killing him; he hadn’t been able to stand up straight in the tiny pod, a sphere with barely enough room to contain him (though he had a feeling he was somewhat smaller now than when the Finagi had beamed him aboard a month ago). It didn’t matter who was on the other side of that hatch, as long as they let him stand up straight.

  And as long as it wasn’t Zep. Or any Finagi.

  The hatch hissed open.

  Humanoid arms reached for Harvey, pulling him through...then releasing him to tumble to the hard deck. He whacked his knees on the deck plating, but he didn’t care; the pain in his back was much worse.

  Groaning and wincing, he got to his knees, then reached for help. With one hand, he found a waiting arm, and gripped it; blindly, he groped for the being’s other arm.

  And latched onto cold metal instead. Some kind of apparatus.

  He looked up, and jerked away his hand. It was an evil-looking cutting tool, all gleaming, razor-sharp blades.

  Harvey looked further.

  Encased in dull metal, studded with hoses and wires, the being directed a laser lens eye at his guest. Harvey supposed the creature was half machine...probably more.

  And decidedly unfriendly.

  “You will be mechanized,” the creature droned, and its cutting tool whirred.

  “Pish tosh,” Harvey chirped flippantly. “What you boys really need is my miracle makeup!” Harvey fished a small jar from his tunic and twisted off the lid. “You’re so pale! You look like death warmed over.”

  “Makeup is irrelevant,” droned the creature. “We are Mechanoids.”

  “Well, Mechy old chum, I can get you a year’s supply at cost, direct from the factory!” Fumbling to his feet, Harvey dabbed two fingers in the makeup, then smeared it on the Mechanoid's pale skin. “Allow me to demonstrate!”

  And he was off and running all over again.

  *****

  Next, another special story that started life as an entry in a nationwide contest. This one's based on a sequel TV series that never came to be...

  Ilyra’s Gift


  Emanators drawn, the three travelers emerged from the pulsing, flashing chamber of the Byzanthion time machine.

  Outside the chamber, the surrounding room was empty and quiet. Stealthily, the travelers fanned out, eyes sweeping every recess for signs of life, signs of danger.

  Satisfied that no one was near, the trio drew back together.

  It was not the welcome they’d expected. Astrofleet officers strolling out of an active Byzanthion time travel device could be expected to draw a good deal more attention than this.

  Commander Wes Daniels, leader of the mission, continued to look around as he spoke to his two companions. “Nobody’s home,” he whispered. “Hard to believe.”

  Lieutenant Ilyra nodded. The absence of a welcoming committee was a surprise, considering the circumstances.

  The Astrofleet trio had entered the time travel device only moments after an escaping Byzanthion operative. The three had had reason to believe that they were following their quarry right into the proverbial lion’s den.

  “No sign of Commander Tempos, either,” whispered Ilyra. “Could there have been a significant time lapse between his arrival and ours, though we left within moments of each other?”

  “Negative,” intoned Lieutenant Xen, the Hephaestan science officer. “Based on my examination of the device at our point of departure, I must conclude that it was designed to provide relatively synchronous travel.”

  “So if he left a few minutes before us, we should have arrived just a few minutes after he did,” said Daniels.

  “Precisely,” agreed Xen, as unflappable as ever. “Therefore, if we now continue pursuit, we could theoretically locate him and complete our mission within a few minutes’ time.”

  Daniels nodded grimly. “Let’s go,” he said, and headed for an open doorway.

  Ilyra took a deep breath and followed, with Xen close behind.

  Capable as she was, dangerous as she could be, the Epsilonian feared what lay ahead.

  They literally had no idea what they were walking into.

  During her years as navigator of the celebrated star cruiser, U.S.S. Infinitude, Lieutenant Ilyra had been in some perilous predicaments. It came with the territory, naturally -- serving with lightning rods like Captain Matthew Horn, Dr. Leonard McKee, Duncan MacDuff, and the rest.

  If the first five-year mission had been a wild ride, the second -- Ilyra’s tour -- had been the wildest ride ever. She, Daniels, and Xen, new kids at the start of the second five years, now were toughened, cagey vets of the interstellar frontier.

  But this latest assignment was a different animal.

  Investigating reports of temporal disturbances near the Byzanthion systems, the Infinitude had found a secret station deep within the crust of a Byzanthion moon. Despite heavy resistance from Byzanthion troops, a landing party had penetrated to the station’s heart -- and found more than they’d bargained for.

  The station had been home to not one, not two, but ten time displacement devices...each one fully activated and seething from recent use.

  Ten time machines, just used to send who knows how many Byzanthion operatives back in time...or forward. Destination unknown.

  Purpose certainly malevolent.

  Commander Tempos had confirmed that much, at least. Captured in the act of programming the time chambers to self-destruct, the Byzanthion had said a little.

  “You’re too late,” he’d crowed. “Say goodbye to everything you know.

  “Say hello to a Byzanthion future.”

  And then, he’d somehow twisted free and dived headfirst into the last active chamber.

  No one had been able to determine his destination. The station’s equipment had begun to purge its memory the instant he’d leaped.

  So the Infinitude crew had had only a moment to decide what to do next. Tempos’ last words had made that decision effortless.

  Without hesitation, Daniels, Ilyra, and Xen had plunged into the unknown.

  And they were plunging still.

  The nondescript bay surrounding the time travel device had revealed nothing of the era or location to which they’d been transported. Control panels and machinery had been of Byzanthion design -- but there had been no clues to where or when they’d landed.

  The darkened corridor beyond was no more instructive. Tubular, low-ceilinged, musty, the passage could have been anywhere, on a star cruiser or a planet’s surface -- and anytime.

  As the trio tentatively stepped into the passage, Ilyra raised her scanalyzer and scanned ahead of them. Daniels didn’t turn, but she saw him cock his head as he awaited the verdict.

  “All clear,” whispered Ilyra. “No life forms nearby. No Byzanthions.”

  “Good news and bad news,” Daniels whispered back. “We need to find Tempos.”

  Cautiously, the trio approached a blind corner and drew to a halt. Emanator clasped in both hands, Daniels paused, then bobbed his head around the corner for a quick look. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he slowly led his team further.

  Again, Ilyra consulted the scanalyzer. Again, she reported an absence of immediate danger.

  Which Lieutenant Xen contradicted all of a sudden.

  “Teleporters!,” he shouted, abandoning all pretense of concealment. “They’ve locked on!”

  Ilyra’s gaze dropped to the scanalyzer readouts. She heard the high-pitched whine just as she spotted the characteristic signal on the sensor screen.

  “Mission objective!,” hollered Daniels as the whine grew louder. “End the threat to the timeline at any cost!”

  Ilyra felt the familiar tingle as her body broke apart in the twinkling beam.

  “At any cost!,” repeated Daniels, and then the teleporter took them all.

  *****

  “I find you very attractive.”

  These were the first words that Lieutenant Ilyra heard as she emerged from unconsciousness.

  “It must be the baldness. And those legendary pheromones, perhaps.”

  Ilyra’s eyes flickered open, and she saw the silver-haired Byzanthion time traveler leering down at her. Commander Tempos; they had found him.

  A lot of good it would do them. Ilyra quickly realized that she was shackled to the deck.

  She was lying on her side, in a fetal curl at Tempos’ feet. Solid metal bands tightly circled her wrists and ankles; heavy chains clattered as she moved, locked to thick links forged to the deck plates.

  “You know, I’ve heard a lot about Epsilonian women,” Tempos chuckled. “About their voraciousness. Their proclivities.”

  “It’s all true,” Ilyra said coldly, struggling to sit up.

  “I’ve heard that you can kill a man,” grinned Tempos, “with pleasure.”

  “Yes,” said Ilyra. “Allow me to demonstrate by killing you...with pleasure.”

  Tempos laughed loudly. “Excellent!,” he roared. “Then your people will be especially welcome subjects of the Byzanthion Star Empire!”

  Looking to her right, Ilyra saw her comrades, likewise shackled to the deck. Three Byzanthion centurions stood guard over them, emanator rifles at the ready.

  Wes Daniels still lay unconscious among the chains; Xen sat rigidly, staring without visible emotion at the gloating Byzanthion.

  “There is no Byzanthion Empire,” Xen said evenly.

  Tempos smiled broadly and wagged his head. “Oh Hephaestan brother. Ye of little faith.”

  “Is this then the purpose of your temporal displacement exercise? The creation of an empire?” Xen shifted his gaze to Ilyra, then back to their captor.

  In reply, Commander Tempos turned his back on the Astrofleet prisoners and walked to a wall-mounted control panel. “Do you know where you are?,” he said blithely, pressing a contact on the panel. “When you are?”

  “No,” replied Xen, “though your remarks, and the level of technology of this vessel, have led me to conclude that we are sometime in the past. The early-to-mid twenty-second century, I believe.”

  Tempos grunted.
“Very good,” he said sardonically, “though I don’t suppose you have all the answers, Hephaestan.”

  “No,” Xen conceded matter-of-factly. “I do not.”

  Pressing another contact on the panel, Tempos again turned his hawklike smile upon them. “Everything you know about the history of the Byzanthion people,” he said, “was manufactured by me.” He gestured at a wall-mounted viewscreen as it rippled to life.

  Ilyra heard chain links clink on the deck, and she looked down to see Wes Daniels stir. His hand twitched weakly; his head shifted, and he winced as if stricken by a sharp pain.

  Her heart went out to him, but she could not reach out to aid him. She winced, too, because her empathic abilities channeled an echo of his pain to her.

  And because he was her heart.

  The two had met years ago, when he was stationed on her homeworld, Epsilon IV. They’d fallen deeply, deeply...and he’d left without a goodbye.

  But they’d reunited aboard the Infinitude, and love had returned. With startling intensity.

  And when it came to love, it took a hell of a lot to startle a Epsilonian.

  Slowly, Wes’s eyes fluttered open, and his gaze met hers. She gave him a little of her special smile, the one she saved only for him.

  He was her heart.

  “All of it! Everything!” Tempos was still holding forth, his smug exclamations drawing her attention away from Wes. “All because of me!”

  Proudly, he admired the image on the viewscreen. He reached out and ran a hand over its surface, as if to caress the star cruisers displayed on it.

  The fleet of star cruisers. Hundreds of them. More than that.

  Each one sporting the same fiery emblem. The same fiery red bird of prey.

  Ilyra had never seen so many Byzanthion ships at one time, in one place.

  “And this is my masterpiece!,” said Tempos, flashing a toothy grin at Ilyra. “I call it 'Interplanetary Alliance descending a staircase into a bottomless pit.’”