Space Junk

by Andrew Bixler

  “Nothing to worry about?” Adam shouts. “This is my life.”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” the light-form tells him. “And that’s not the point. Even if you could know, you wouldn’t want to.”

  “I’m telling you,” Adam says, “I want to know.”

  “And I’m telling you to trust what I’m telling you.” The light-form puts its amorphous paw to its head and sighs. “Fraiche, I’ve never argued so much with someone who was going back. Can’t you just appreciate that? Must you know everything?”

  “Yes,” Adam says, definitively. “I must know everything.”

  “That’s the problem with you lifers.”

  “Why can’t I know?”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “Just so I… know.”

  “It’s time for you to go.” The light-form touches his shoulder and smiles warmly.

  “Wait, I have more questions,” Adam says.

  “Listen to me,” the light-form tells him. “Stop worrying and just try to make the most of it.”

  “Fine.” Adam thinks it over for a moment and decides that his only option is to go nuclear. “When I get back, I’m going to blow your cover wide open. I’ll tell everyone all about this place. Death will cease to be a mystery. The whole universe is going to find out what happens, or at least that something happens. I bet that’ll fish things up.”

  “Nah.” The light-form stares into him and laughs. “You won’t remember any of this. And even if you did, who would believe you?”

  A bright flash starts a firefight waging across the dark night sky outside Scrapper’s Delight. Spez Hockik wearily gazes up at the familiar scene and takes a long drag off a greasy cigarette as tourists begin streaming out into the parking lot to gawk at the impromptu light show.

  “How ‘bout that,” Tobi says, his eyes stretched up toward the bursting ships. “First Traxis and Zorma, now this. Seems like the whole fishin’ universe is at war.”

  “Yeah.” Spez sighs. “Seems that way.”

  “What do yuh think ther fightin’ over this time?” Tobi asks.

  “I tolt yuh, Tob, ther not fightin’ over nothin’. Trust me. Even if it is somethin’, it’s nothin’.”

  The sky flashes and the crowd gasps.

  “Yuh figure it’s gotta be ‘bout somethin’, though,” Tobi says.

  “Aww, let it go, will yuh?” Spez pleads, raising a Ferd’s-branded koozie to his mouth.

  “I’m jist interst’it, that’s all.”

  “Whatever it is, it ain’t worth dyin’ fer.”

  “I guess yer right ‘bout that,” Tobis says, and he flinches as another flare lights the sky.

  “I know I’m right,” Spez says. “I’m always tellin’ yuh.” He takes one last long pull off his cigarette and tosses it to the ground.

  “Hey!” Tobi cries, stomping out the butt. “Yer jist gon’ throw that on the grount?”

  “What’s it matter? They got cleaners that’ll git it.”

  “Yeah, but they witn’t neet cleaners if erryboty pick’t up ther trash.”

  “Eh, wit yuh git off my back.” Spez swipes at the air. “Look it this place. Ther’s trash errywer.”

  Tobi turns his eyes back toward the dueling ships and frowns. “I ‘member a story I hert once win I was a kit. A ball a chit someboty toss’t out lant’it in ol’ Jorty’s front yart. It leak’t somethin’ mate the weeds grow out a control. Spret ‘cross the whole county. Ever since I hert that, I been real careful wer I toss my trash. Yuh jist never know—”

  “Aright, aright,” Spez says, picking the butt off the ground and sticking it in his shirt pocket.

  “Yuh never know’s all I’m sayin’.”

  The crisscrossing lights taper off as Spez finishes his beer, and the crowd disperses, echoing generally favorable reviews.

  “Guess that’s all the excitement fer tuhday,” Spez says. He crushes his empty can and, under Tobi’s watchful eye, stuffs it and his koozie into his pocket.

  “That was somethin’,” Tobi says. “Not as good as the last one, but somethin’.”

  “Aright, lit’s git out a here. I wanna git back in time fer dinner fer a change.” Spez rips a giant keyring covered in space baubles from his pocket and glances around the lot. “Do yuh ‘member wer we parked?”

  Tobi glances around blankly and shrugs. “You was drivin’. I thought you’it member.”

  “Nice work, Tob,” Spez says. “Yer the navigator. Yer s’pose tuh keep track a these things.”

  “Hey, look’it that.” Tobi points to a group of ships flying over the parking lot, one of them trailing a streamer of gray smoke. “Yuh wanna check it out, see what’s goin’ on?”

  “Maybe we shit jist stay out a it,” Spez says.

  But when he looks back, Tobi is already sprinting across the lot. For a moment, Spez half-considers abandoning his foolhardy companion but ends up breaking into a labored jog along the base of the giant pyramid. He begins panting almost immediately, his stomach shaking and knees aching as he heads for a large hangar back of the lot. The hangar bounces up and down in front of him, cruelly distant. By the time he finally catches up, Tobi has already reached the nearest building in the sprawling complex and is peeking inside.

  “Look at them ships, wit yuh?” Tobi says. “Those is state a the art.”

  Spez holds out his hand and leans against the side of the building, gasping for air.

  “They must b’long tuh The Ferman,” Tobi says. “That’s a lucky gig, gettin’ tuh fly ‘rount in one a those suckers.”

  “All yuh have tuh give…” Spez says, breathing in deep, “is yer life.”

  “Yeah well, it’s still probly worth it.”

  Inside, the damaged ship is still smoking, filling the air with a gray haze. The pilots inspecting it snap to attention as a large metal door behind them slides open, and a tall woman with long blonde hair and high heels marches through the garage.

  “I’m more interst’it in that,” Spez says.

  The woman approaches the pilots and commands, “Report.”

  One of the pilots steps forward. “We lost two of ours, ma’am. But we took two of theirs.”

  “Did you locate the element?” she asks.

  “No,” the pilot says.

  “And what of the Asteroid Jones II?”

  “While we were busy dealing with the Ears, and half a dozen other unidentified spacecraft, the Asteroid Jones II managed to elude us,” the pilot says. “We’re not the only ones after this guy.”

  The woman glares at the pilot for a moment, and then smiles. “It seems Adam Jones is much more cunning than he appears.”

  Spez turns and realizes Tobi is no longer crouched next to him. Nervously glancing around the hangar, Spez spots his foolhardy companion wandering toward the ships inside.

  “Tobi,” Spez whisper-shouts. “Hey, Tob.”

  But Tobi either doesn’t hear the calls or ignores them and keeps walking, mesmerized by the enormous warships.

  “Tobi,” Spez accidentally calls at full volume, and his voice echoes through the building.

  Tobi finally turns toward the sound of Spez’s voice, along with everyone else in the hangar. Spez makes a feeble attempt to run, but he and Tobi are swiftly apprehended and laid at the woman’s feet.

  She looks at them quizzically. “Who the fish are you?”

  “Wer noboty,” Spez says. “We wount up here by accitent.”

  “Yeah, that’s believable,” one of her guards says. “What do you want us to do with them?”

  “I jist wan’it tuh take a look at yer ships, honest,” Tobi says. “I never seen ones like them afer. We din’t mean no harm.”

  “We was jist lookin’ fer are ship in the parking lot and got lost,” Spez explains.

  “You’re a long way from the parking lot,” the woman says.

  “Really, we was jist tryin’ tuh fine’t are ship,” Spez says. “That’s all. We don’t know nothin’. Please don’t tell The
Ferman ‘bout this.”

  Everyone in the hangar, except Spez and Tobi, snickers.

  “With whom did you think you were speaking?” the woman asks.

  They stare up at her, blank-faced.

  “Am I supposed to believe that at this moment, on this of all days, you two just happened to innocently stumble in here to ogle the shiny spaceships?” The Foreman laughs harshly and raises her eyebrow.

  “What day is it, Tuestay?” Tobi asks, nervously.

  “We saw the fight outsite, and the ships, and we was curious, that’s all,” Spez pleads. “We ain’t got a clue what’s goin’ on, and wer not tryin’ tuh git in yer way, right Tob?”

  Tobi nods. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Though, if you don’t mine’t me sayin’, I witn’t mine’t gettin’ tuh know you a little better.” Spez grins, hopefully.

  The Foreman stares at the disheveled aliens, speechless. Finally, she laughs and shakes her head. “Either you two are the most convincing saboteurs I’ve ever encountered, or you’re telling the truth.” She waves at them, dismissively. “Help them find ther… I mean their ship, and make sure they board it.”

  “Thanks,” Spez says.

  “Yeah, thanks a lot,” Tobi says. “You’re aright.”

  One of the Foremen lifts Spez and Tobi to their feet and directs them toward a small patrol ship waiting on the tarmac outside.

  “Take my advice,” The Foreman calls after them. “Stay out of it.”

  “We intent tuh do jist that,” Spez says.

  The patrol ship flies them around the parking lot until they spot their hulking cargo freighter, and the security officer drops them off. He waits around, insistently, for a tip, until Spez reluctantly surrenders. Upon boarding, he and Tobi crack a couple cans of Ol’ Guard with the type of celebratory relief reserved exclusively for the living.

  “See Tob, what’it I tell yuh?” Spez buckles in and starts the ship’s engine. “No ‘mount a nothin’ is worth gettin’ involv’t with these ackles.”

  “Maybe yer right.” Tobi takes a sloppy swig of his beer, dribbling some on his shirt. “I still wonter what it’s all ‘bout, though.”

  Spez shrugs and points at the dark sky outside. “You see how many stars is out ther? Ther’s more ‘an you‘it ever be able tuh count in yer whole life. But it’s all made a the same stuff.”

  “BAAAAAMP,” a loud honk blares from behind them. Spez glances in his rearview and sees the pilot of the patrol ship jutting his thumb out, obscenely.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Spez grumbles, as he selects their next destination. “Wer goin’.”

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

  Adam glances out the window at a tiny pink dot propelling across the sky. Although he’s never seen anything like it, something about the dopey, googly-eyed cat ship careening toward him feels oddly familiar.

  “What the fish is that?” he asks, uncertainly.

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

  “Whoa, déjà vu, man.”

  Just as the kitten’s smiling jaws begin to overflow with light, a beam of white cuts through the space between them and ricochets off its oversized head, altering the course of its spittle attack and narrowly saving the Asteroid Jones II from certain annihilation.

  “That was close.” Adam pats his chest to confirm it still exists.

  “Mehhh,” princessfluffypants angrily wails. “You hurt princessfluffypants.” A bunch of loud, distorted noise crackles through the speakers, and three more ships – an impractically big tank, a giant cheeseburger, and a nearly invisible sliver of dark metal – pull up alongside the kitten.

  Adam frantically shifts his gaze between the Ears and Foremen, but none of them appear to have fired the shot. He leans over the dash, craning his neck to look out the window, and sees a small red junker hovering above his ship.

  A new feed pops up in the public channel, but the image is distorted. “What -ou do- -ou chidiot?” a muffled voice yells at him.

  “Huh?” Adam says.

  “Ge- the -ish out of there!”

  Adam topples back into his seat, quickly adjusts his ship’s orientation, and begins a cautious retreat.

  “You’re not getting away,” Zok screams. He fires at the Asteroid Jones II as it passes, but Adam narrowly manages to evade the projectile, and it obliterates one of The Foreman’s goons.

  “You son of a perch!” the space hick shouts. “Get those fishin’ ackles!” The Foremen fire back, wiping out one of the Ears and toasting part of the cheeseburger’s bun.

  “I guess they want a fight!” theonetrueking declares.

  Crossfire erupts in the rearview as Adam makes his escape. Barreling through space with no indication of pursuit, he taps the window to check his trajectory and then reaches into the fridge for a much-needed Ol’ Guard.

  “Whew, I made it.” He raises his can to toast himself and slugs back the ice cold beer.

  “Yeah, -anks -o me,” the muffled mystery voice says.

  “Who are you?” Adam asks.

  “I ne- help,” the voice says.

  “Why should I help you?”

  “Because I -st saved -ur life, -ou -ckle!” the voice shouts.

  “Yeah, all right,” Adam relents. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Jus- -low down,” the voice tells him.

  Adam shifts the Asteroid Jones II into park and waits for the ship to approach. The little craft pulls in close, trailing a thin streamer of smoke. Its side door slides open, and a small humanoid in a faded red and white spacesuit steps toward the opening.

  “Open up,” the voice says.

  Adam hurries to the back of his ship and unlocks the cargo bay door. As his guest climbs in through the airlock, he yells down, “Come on in!”

  The stranger trips across the cluttered room and starts up the steps, hopping and pulling at the spacesuit’s helmet until it finally comes loose, revealing two twitching triangle ears atop a head of frizzy, shoulder-length black hair.

  “Asteroid Jones, huh?” the cat-girl says, with a smirk.

  “Oh, I didn’t think…” Adam stares, his mouth open.

  “What, that a girl could save your life?” She flips her hair back and snorts.

  “No, no, I’m happy to have my life saved by anyone,” Adam says. “That you’re a girl is just a bonus. I hate to admit it, but I was starting to get a little worried back there. So, thanks.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Adam.”

  “Quick,” she says, shoving him up the steps. “We have to get out of here.”

  “It looked like everyone pretty much had their hands full,” he argues, as she pushes him toward the cockpit. “I don’t think any of them followed us.”

  “That’s not it,” she says. “That stupid pink cat cracked one of my fuel cells. It started leaking and eating through the hull. We’re about to get pelted with the shrapnel that, up until a few moments ago, made up my life.”

  Adam guides them to a safe distance, and they watch in the rearview as, in an instant, the little vessel crushes in on itself and its contents splurts out into space.

  “Nooo…” The girl drops her head and pounds her fist on the dash. “I’ve lost everything. Who am I? Do I even exist?”

  “Like squishing a grape,” Adam comments.

  The girl slowly turns her head and glares at him. “This is all your fault, you know.”

  Adam crosses his arms defensively. “How is it my fault?”

  “If I hadn’t rescued you,” she says, “I’d still have my ship, and all my stuff.”

  “Well, why did you save me?”

  “I don’t know,” she grumbles. “I heard you guys arguing, and I saw you out there all alone. You just looked so pathetic, I had to do something. What’s that they say about no good deed going unpunished?”

  “Uh, that?” Adam says.

  “Right.”

  “Well, thanks,” Adam tells her. “
I owe you one. What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Daizy.” She jumps up and begins rifling through his cupboards. “You got any food on this heap?”

  “I’ve got rations.”

  “Rations?” Daizy looks at him like his brains squirted out along with the contents of her ship. “I mean real food.”

  “There’s teriyaki flavor…”

  “Ughh,” she groans, spins, and critically scans the garbage-strewn cabin. “It’s like my slobby uncle’s living room.”

  “Hey, I didn’t criticize your ship,” he says.

  “No, you just blew it up. Speaking of which, could I borrow something to wear?”

  “Um, yeah sure.” Adam shimmies past her and searches through a pile of lightly-worn clothes draped over the couch. He hands her a ratty t-shirt and a pair of shorts and says, “Here you go.”

  “Thanks…” Daizy hesitantly accepts her new wardrobe and lightly sniffs at it. “Could you unzip me?”

  “Sure…” Adam carefully unclasps the back of her emergency suit, and she pulls it forward, revealing smooth, bare shoulders. As he’s staring, a bushy brown tail pokes out of the opening and brushes against his hand. His mouth drops open, and a trickle of blood streams from his nostril.

  “Can I get a little privacy?” she asks.

  “Sorry,” Adam says, turning away.

  “So what are we going to do now?”

  “We?”

  “You’re the reason I’m in this mess. You owe me a new ship.”

  “How am I supposed to pay for that?”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “But I’ll just have to stick around until you can. Anyway, everyone on this side of the galaxy is after whatever you’ve got. You can pay me with that.”

  “No way.” Adam snorts. “What you’re talking about is worth way more than one lousy ship. The problem is, it’s just a… thing. It’s not money. I have to find someone who can afford to buy it.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Listen, I don’t usually travel with other people,” Adam tells her. “I prefer to fly solo.” He peeks over his shoulder and sees that Daizy is dressed and staring at him, accusingly.

  “Then I suggest you start getting used to company,” she says.