Space Junk

by Andrew Bixler

  But he backs away. “Uh, I don’t think so. I don’t deal in that currency, valuable as it may be.”

  “In that case, it’s been nice chatting with you.” She reaches out again, and he jumps back as she grasps the doorknob and twists. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, real soon.”

  “We should team up,” debt collector A’s voice crackles sleazily. “We’re both chasing the same ship.”

  “We may be looking for the same ship, but we are after two entirely different things,” the Ear snaps back.

  “All we’re saying is seven ships is better than six,” debt collector B’s voice cuts in. “We want to help.”

  “That junker is in possession of UE property, and I will recover it,” the Ear says. “I do not require any assistance.”

  “We don’t care about your property, or whatever,” A says. “All we want is Adam Jones.”

  “Just stay out of my way,” the Ear commands. “Once I have the element, I don’t care what happens to Adam Jones.”

  “You hear that?” The One says, over the team’s private chat. “Sounds like this Adam Jones guy has the element.”

  Beer rubs his eyes and yawns. “Yep, all we have to do is stay on the Ears’ tails and wait.”

  Pants grins at the camera as her audience returns from a commercial break for Moon Burger. “Mmm, Moon Burger,” she coos, rubbing her stomach. A small box in the corner of her ship’s window displays her feed back at her, and she adjusts the camera angle to better capture her neon pink captain’s chair and pastel cockpit. “For those who are just tuning in, we discovered that the Ears and the ICA are after the element too. It’s all thanks to Tim_Horton for patching into the Ear’s private communication channel.” Pants taps the window to unmute her feed so the rest of the team can hear her. “Thanks, Horton!” She grins and mutes herself again.

  “Um, you’re welcome?” Horton says.

  “We’re on our way to Scrapper’s Delight. We might even run into The Foreman.” She opens her eyes wide and leans into the camera. “But even if he’s a scary guy, there’s no way he can beat Pants Team Pink!

  “Now it’s time to answer one of your questions!” She pulls open a file on her ship’s window. “This one is from cinderellaboy. It says – ‘I love you princessfluffypants. Do you have a bf/gf? I’ll be whatever you want me to be.’” Pants smiles and tilts her head at the camera. “Nope, I don’t. Maybe one day, but for now it’s just me and the ship princessfluffypants, treasure hunting across the stars. Thanks for asking!”

  “As long as we’re on the subject, what is it you’re looking for, anyway?” B asks.

  “That’s confidential,” the Ear says.

  “Come on,” B prods. “We can help each other out.”

  “I already told you,” the Ear says. “I don’t need any help. Tag along if you must. But remember with whom you are speaking. And stay out of my way.”

  Pants taps the window again to unmute the team chat. “This is turning into a real space opera, you guys.”

  “What’d you expect?” The One asks. “These guys are total ackles.”

  “This is good,” Horton assures them. “As long as they’re occupied with each other, they probably won’t notice us.”

  “Hey, I just thought of something.” The One jerks up in his chair and wipes the crumbs off his chest. “If we do manage to find this guy, and to outmaneuver the Ears and the two stooges, how do we split the element; break it apart?”

  “Of course not,” Beer says. “We’ll just have to share it. Let’s agree now that we’ll all own an equal share.”

  “Agreed,” they chime together.

  The One starts rummaging around off-screen. “Okay, but which one of us gets to decide what to do with it?”

  “That’s obvious,” Horton says. “That honor will go to whichever of us gets his hands on it first.”

  “Or her paws,” Pants says.

  They glare suspiciously at one another through their screens, except for Horton, whose feed is displaying ‘technical difficulties’ color bars.

  “You here that, you guys?” Pants says. “A single-player mission!”

  “Are you talking to us?” Beer asks. “Or your fans?”

  “Chit, Pants!” Horton complains. “Stop letting your fans listen to our meetings.”

  “Yeah, yeah…” Pants waves their concerns away. “They’re my friends. They just want to help.”

  “They’re not your friends,” Horton says. “You don’t know who they are.”

  “Yeah, kch, kch, kch,” The One mumbles, as he crunches through a mouthful of green-flavor Moon-Cheez Ballz. Sucking the neon dust off his fingers, he says, “One of them could beat us to it.”

  “Whatever,” Pants says. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Hey!” Beer gawks and points toward the window. “Check it out.”

  “What is that thing?” Pants gasps, gazing out at the pyramid of dark light on the horizon.

  The giant metal moon called Scrapper’s Delight looms in the distance. From afar, its features are obscured, but as they fly in closer, Pants can make out the jagged pillars and bleak industrial parks that cover its dark surface.

  “The Ears are slowing down,” Horton says. “See what’s going on, Pants.”

  “Right.” She taps at her window and opens the controls to princessfluffypants’s long-range telescope. Her ship’s eyelid-shutters blink as she slides her finger across the window to zoom in. “They stopped moving, and there’s another ship.”

  “Maybe they’re asking for directions,” The One suggests.

  Pants squints at the blurry lettering scrawled across the side of the dented junker. “It has some words painted on it - ‘Ast-eroid Jones II.’”

  “Quick,” Horton says. “Switch to the public channel.”

  Pants taps at her window, and a new feed appears alongside the others.

  “Wow, that was fast!” the strange, greasy human exclaims. “Yeah, I think I got what you’re looking for. So, what’s your offer?”

  “My offer,” the Ear says, “is to allow you to keep your insignificant life instead of blowing it to space dust.”

  “That’s Adam Jones, the guy with the element,” Beer says. “What should we do?”

  “Wow, that’s really tempting,” Adam says. “But I’m going to have to pass.”

  “I don’t think you understand,” the Ear says. “I’m not asking—”

  “The Ears might blow this guy up and save us a lot of trouble,” The One suggests. “Then we can swoop in and snag the element, if it’s not destroyed.”

  “And wind up with the Ears after us?” Horton says.

  Another feed opens as a scrapper with bloodshot eyes and long stubble enters the channel. “Looks like we got ourselves a party.”

  A small fleet of ships pulls up behind the Asteroid Jones II, and another rough scrapper, with skin the color and texture of dead moss and eyes like black pearls, joins them. “Good thing we brought our dancing shoes.”

  “Now who’s that?” Beer asks.

  “You are speaking to Vice Admiral Zok of the United Empires,” the Ear says. “I order you to identify yourselves.”

  “You here that?” the bloodshot scrapper says. “He’s ordering us.”

  “The UE don’t have jurisdiction out here,” the mossy one says. “This is Foreman space. And nobody does anything without his say-so. Mr. Jones is in possession of The Foreman’s property. We’re here to collect.”

  “The element is UE property,” Zok shouts. “You hold no claim to it!”

  “Well, what I think—” Pants starts to speak and is immediately cut off.

  “What?” Adam says.

  “Identify yourself,” Zok demands.

  “Pants!” Horton shouts. “You forgot to mute your feed.”

  “Oh no…” Pants fumbles her hand against the window, unsuccessfully swiping at the volume bar. “I’m sorry.”

  “Huh?” Adam Jones says. “How did all you people find me?
”

  “I’m trying,” Pants says, and she finally gets her feed to mute. “I got it.”

  “Great,” The One groans.

  “Now they know we’re here!” Horton shouts.

  “I’m sorry!” Pants folds her arms and slumps into her chair. Tears begin to fill her eyes.

  “What the Fish do we do now?” Beer asks.

  “Girly, you don’t have any business here,” the Foreman’s bloodshot thug says. “You’ll stay out of this if you know what’s good for you.”

  Weeping, Pants cuts the team’s feed so she can talk to her fans. “I messed up big this time, you guys. Now everyone knows we’re here. I just lost our biggest advantage and probably ruined everything. I can’t do anything right.”

  She lays her head on the dash and glances at the comments flooding in across the window –

  PantsFan99: “it’s ok Pants. everybody makes mistakes”

  Alicia_Time: “You can do this, girl!”

  sailorstarlight: “PANTS TEAM PINK 4 EVER!”

  ranDOMdood: “you should give up and go home you fishing crybaby”

  “Mehhh,” Pants whines.

  DREAMpower: “ranDOMdood is an ackle. don’t stop now Pants! this is just starting to get good!”

  KEL VARNSEN: “COME ON! You’re princessfluffypants! You can do anything!”

  “You’re right!” She sits up and wipes her eyes. “Thanks guys. I can always count on you!” Opening the team’s feed, she says, “I’m sorry I blew our cover. But there’s only one thing to do now, you guys.”

  “Don’t do anything crazy, Pants!” Horton yells.

  She switches back to the public feed and announces, “This is princessfluffypants!”

  “Who?” Adam asks.

  “Prepare for battle!” Pants cries.

  “Ha, you might be crazy, Pants. But Tim_Horton is with you.”

  “BeerCheese69 would never sit out a battle with the Loot Lurkers!”

  “Ugh, it’s the Ack Kickers, but TheOneTrueKing will fly by your side!”

  With her friends and her fans by her side, Pants shifts the ship princessfluffypants into pouncing position and declares, “The treasure belongs to Pants Team Pink!”

  Adam flicks open his virtual video library and randomly selects a movie from the list as he guides his ship out of the Scrapper’s Delight parking lot. A long, winding road appears on the screen, stagnant but for a single distant car gradually weaving its way into the foreground.

  Outside, a fleet of Ears approaches, and Adam steers out of their path. But as they fly past, the lead ship, unusually luxe for a UE cruiser, loops back around and cuts in front of the Asteroid Jones II, forcing its emergency brakes to engage.

  “They’re coming to get you, Barbra,” the movie says, and Adam mutes the volume.

  A rigid UE officer, the top half of his uniform covered in colorless metal, appears in the public channel. “Hello,” he calls, as another handful of Ears line up in formation alongside his ship.

  “Hello,” the officer repeats. “Can you hear me?”

  “Uh yeah, I can hear you,” Adam answers. “What is it?”

  “I couldn’t help noticing the distinctive artwork on the side of your vessel,” the Ear says. “I’m searching for the owner of a ship called the Asteroid Jones II. Would you happen to be Adam Jones?”

  “Nope, sorry,” Adam says. “You got the wrong guy. My name’s, uh, Russell Streiner.”

  “Well that’s strange,” the Ear says, “because I just ran your plates and the ship you’re piloting is registered to an ‘Adam Jones.’ Are you flying a stolen spacecraft?”

  As Adam searches for an escape, he suddenly notices the ICA van hovering behind the Ears. “All right, you got me. I know I’m a little behind on my payments. I didn’t think it was that big a deal. I swear I was about to send the money.”

  “I’m not following,” the Ear says. “I don’t want your money. I am Vice Admiral Zok of the United Empires. I’ve been informed that you are in possession of UE property, and I’ve come to reclaim it.”

  “Wow, that was fast!” Adam says. “Yeah, I think I got what you’re looking for. So, what’s your offer?”

  The vice admiral glares through the feed, clenching his teeth. “My offer is to allow you to keep your insignificant life instead of blowing it to space dust.”

  “Wow, that’s really tempting,” Adam says. “But I’m going to have to pass.”

  “I don’t think you understand,” Zok says. “I’m not asking.”

  As Adam tries to think of a good one-liner that will save the black gold and his life, another small fleet of ships pulls up in his rearview.

  Some strung-out spacehead scrapper enters the channel and says, “Looks like we got ourselves a party.”

  “Good thing we brought our dancing shoes,” a scuzzy space hick adds.

  “You are speaking to Vice Admiral Zok of the United Empires,” Zok tells them. “I order you to identify yourselves.”

  “You here that?” the space junkie says. “He’s ordering us.”

  “The UE doesn’t have jurisdiction out here,” the hick says. “This is Foreman space. And nobody does anything without his say-so. Mr. Jones is in possession of The Foreman’s property. We’re here to collect.”

  “The element is UE property!” Zok shouts. “You hold no claim to it.”

  As they’re shouting, the image of a young girl surrounded by an oversaturated cabin plastered with unicorns and gumdrops appears on the window alongside the others. “Well, what I think—” she starts to say.

  But Adam cuts her off. “What?” he confusedly blurts.

  “Identify yourself,” Zok says.

  “Oh no,” the girl says, fumbling. “I’m sorry.”

  “Huh?” Adam glances between the many feeds stretched across his window. “How did all you people find me?”

  “I’m trying,” the girl says, and her feed cuts out.

  “Girly, you don’t have any business here,” the junkie says. “You’ll stay out of this if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Why don’t you guys work this out between yourselves and whichever of you survives can come and find me,” Adam helpfully suggests.

  “Nice try, Adam Jones,” the hick says. “But now you’re going to lead us to the black gold. You don’t want to know what’ll happen to you if you refuse.”

  “Adam Jones, for obstructing an officer of the UE, I am placing you under arrest,” Zok proclaims.

  The junkie straightens and, suddenly becoming quite lucid, says, “You’re not taking him.”

  “It appears we’ve reached an impasse,” Zok says. “I’m prepared to use force, if necessary.”

  “You here that?” the hick says. “He only uses force if it’s necessary.”

  Adam nervously glances between the ships surrounding him as the lumbering dead silently converge over the passeneger-side window, when the girl in the colorful cabin reappears, and announces, “This is princessfluffypants!”

  “Who?” Adam asks.

  “Prepare for battle!” princessfluffypants cries.

  “Ha, you might be crazy, Pants. But Tim_Horton is with you,” a weird robo-voice says from a dead feed next to the girl’s.

  A young boy appears, declaring, “BeerCheese69 would never sit out a battle with the Loot Lurkers!”

  Wiping green dust on his shirt, another pudgier boy enters the channel. “Ugh, it’s the Ack Kickers, but theonetrueking will fly by your side!”

  “The treasure belongs to Pants Team Pink!” princessfluffypants shouts.

  Adam can just make out a tiny pink dot approaching in the distance. As it closes in on the conglomeration of disparate spacecraft – all of whom seem to be dazedly transfixed by this latest development – the googly eyes, pointy ears, and bulbous cranium of a giant pink kitten reveal themselves.

  “What the fish is that?” Adam asks no one in particular.

  The kitten’s mouth opens, and the space between its pointy te
eth begins to glow.

  “I don’t like this one bit…” Adam mumbles as a beam of light spits from the kitten’s smiling jaws and envelopes the Asteroid Jones II’s window.

  Adam experiences a moment of intense discomfort and then tumbles into darkness. As he flails his limbs in terror, he hears a soothing voice tell him, “Don’t worry, everything’s all right.”

  He feels something press down lightly against his shoulder, and a calming sensation spreads through his body. He lowers his limbs and looks at the thing standing over him – a vague human form wrapped in a halo of light.

  “Where am I?” Adam asks. “What happened?”

  “This may sound a little strange,” the light-form tells him, without moving its faint lips. “But you just died.”

  “I died?!” Adam tries to throw his arms into the air, but his body is too numb to respond.

  “Don’t worry,” the light-form says. “It’s no big deal. You still have a couple murrays left.”

  “What do you mean, ‘murrays’?” Adam asks.

  “It’s like a do-over,” the light-form says. “You get to go back and take another crack at it. We’re just waiting for the system to recalibrate.”

  Adam suddenly notices that there are dozens of others like him floating all around the room. “Whoa, are they all going back?”

  “No, not all of them.”

  “How come?”

  The light-form seems to shrug. "That's above my pay grade. Some of them have already used up all their murrays. Others don’t have any. Some even choose not to have any. These things are decided way before they reach me."

  “So what is this place?” Adam groggily asks. “Am I in space heaven? Is life just some sort of matrixy world on a wire?”

  “I’m sorry,” the light-form says. “I’m not familiar with the vocabulary you’re using.”

  “Who am I? Why am I in this place?”

  Something like a smile forms across the light-form’s face, and it shakes its bright head. “I can’t tell you that. I’m not permitted to say too much. But even if I could, it wouldn’t make much sense to you. It’s nothing to worry about, though.”