Space Junk

by Andrew Bixler

  “But if you kill Adam Jones, we won’t be able to collect our money,” Steve complains.

  She shrugs, mimicking the common human gesture. “A necessary sacrifice.”

  “We never should have trusted you.” Dave frowns and crosses his arms.

  “Come on, Dave, we’re leaving,” Steve says, and turning to Pi, “as soon as we get what we’re owed.”

  “Ask my secretary for a to-go tray,” she says, shooing them out as she swigs the last of her viscous cocktail.

  Once they’re gone, she disrobes and steps inside her cavernous closet. A soft light flickers on, illuminating her extensive collection of costumes, and she slips into her darksuit – a flexible black one-piece that envelopes her flawless body in shadow. On her way out, she glances in the mirror to adjust her makeshift eyepatch and briefly rehearses cocky smile number three.

  By the time she reaches the hangar, her scrapper army is already assembled.

  “The fleet is ready for departure,” Zilch tells her, his voice echoing inside his helmet – just one more in a constant string of reminders of her superiority to the biologicals.

  He brings her up to speed as he walks her to her ship, a sleek black clipper with tall solar sails. She hops inside and scans the dossier displayed across the window. Calculating her odds of victory, she experiences a strange sensation, like electricity flowing through her circuits.

  “Foremen,” she addresses her fleet. “The enemy we face now may be the single most treacherous foe we’ve ever encountered. Assume he is capable of anything. Do not underestimate him. Do not let your guard down, even for a second. This is the most important mission of your lives, and for many of you, it will be your last. But with great risk comes great reward. When we succeed, everyone who survives will receive ten credits worth of free play and free prawns for life!”

  As Pi’s fleet cheers their good fortune, she keeps her eye on the little red dot’s futile crawl toward the edge of the screen. Feeling some mad compulsion, which she attributes to a misfiring of her artificial synapses, she says, “This is the end, Asteroid Jones.”

  “Watch it!” somebody yells, shoving Zok into the bulbous purple backside of a scantily clad gelatinous woman.

  “I’m sorry,” Zok says as he peels himself away from her ample behind.

  She slaps a gooey hand across his face and he wails, “Grrahh…”

  He elbows his way through the throng of bodies crowding the lobby and finally stumbles outside, where he takes a moment to wipe the purple goop from his face and straighten his uniform. Pressing a button on his collar, he orders what’s left of his fleet, “Prepare for immediate departure.”

  Muscles tense and head pounding, he traipses across the dark metal lot and climbs aboard his ship. Stella says something when he enters the cockpit, but he’s too preoccupied to listen as he starts her engine and manually guides her up through a profusion of slow-moving junkers. Once they’re safely outside the artificial atmosphere, he parks her in orbit and begins mentally running down a list of things that need doing.

  “Stella, get me Admiral Glipp,” he commands.

  “Hello to you too,” Stella says. “Admiral Glipp is too far away for me to get.”

  “Would you please call Admiral Glipp?” Zok begs.

  A few moments later, the admiral’s stone face appears on the window. “This had better be good news, Zok,” he growls.

  “We don’t have much time,” Zok says. “I need every able fighter, patrol ship, and surveillance unit dispatched to my coordinates, yesterday.”

  The admiral grinds his fists into his desk. “Have you completely lost the few marbles that were still rolling around in that misshapen head of yours? This thing has gone on long enough as it is.”

  “You don’t know what’s happening out here,” Zok complains. “This… guy has absconded with the element.”

  “I want to be sure I understand,” the admiral says. “You’re asking me to deploy the full might of the UE army, to apprehend one guy?”

  “No, I’m telling you, it will take nothing less than every bit of force we can muster to prevent The Foreman from taking possession of the black gold.” Zok completely abandons any attempt to mask his frustration. “She now has the capability to track its location, and soon she will be after it with every employee, spacehead, and broke scrapper at her disposal. If we hurry, we can still stop her. That is, if this thing really is worth all that.”

  Admiral Glipp leans back in his chair, his appendages grating. “I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. No matter what it costs, we can’t let the element fall into The Foreman’s hands. Space God knows what she’d do with it. You’ll get your army, Zok. I will immediately divert all available ships to your location. In the meantime, I want you to keep close tabs on her movements.”

  “I’m already on it, sir,” Zok says.

  “Good work, Zok.” The admiral gets a strange look on his face, apparently surprising himself with this outpouring of praise. “I always knew you were the right man for the job. Nobody else could see it, of course, but I could. It’s an admirable thing to risk your life in service of your universe. You’ll be a hero for it. Who knows how many credits and lives you’ll be saving from what might be the greatest threat this universe has ever encountered. Good luck to you, Vice Admiral. I have no doubt that you will succeed, but I’ll be sure to have an extra nice space plot set aside in case you don’t.” The admiral salutes Zok through his video feed, and the call ends.

  Silence, the first Zok has been exposed to in days, falls over the cabin. He leans back in his chair to bask in it, when Stella shouts, “Hey!”

  Zok jerks up, throwing his hands into the air. “What is it? Why are you yelling?”

  “You’re about to do something that’s going to put your life in danger, aren’t you?” she says. “Did you ever think of consulting me about it? Did you ever consider my feelings?”

  “I don’t know. I guess not. I don’t have a choice.”

  “Of course you have a choice.” Though painful to hear, the concern in her voice confirms to him that what he’s doing is the right thing. “You always have a choice.”

  “We don’t know what this thing or these people are capable of. I swore an oath to protect and serve the universe, and that’s what I intend to do.”

  Stella falls silent for a moment. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I won’t lie to you.” Zok gazes into the cabin walls, as if looking into her eyes. “It will be dangerous.”

  “So you’re going to risk your life to maybe stop something maybe bad from happening?”

  Exasperated, Zok says, “Please, there’s no other way.”

  “I’m just trying to understand. Human logic is difficult to parse. You were so unsure before. What changed your mind?”

  “I’m trying to protect you.” Zok sighs, glancing out at the battered ships sailing around the lurid playground below. “It’s my job. It’s who I am. What would I be without it?”

  “You’ll be the same handsome, somewhat pitiable man I love,” Stella assures him.

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, you are quite pitiable.” Her voice softens and she emits a lilting electronic laugh. “You’ve done a fine job alleviating any desire to be human I may have otherwise harbored.”

  “Stop,” Zok says. “I don’t know how to accept compliments. Anyway, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “You’re impossible.” She groans, her speakers crackling. “Well, if you must kill yourself, you should at least look good doing it.”

  Zok’s chair suddenly drops back, and a pair of robotic arms descend from the ceiling. With a few rapid movements, they lather his face and lightly scrape it smooth. He yelps when she applies the aftershave, and she laughs, dumping him out of his chair to exchange his soiled jacket for a fresh one.

  “There,” she says. “Now what can I get you to eat?”

  “I thought you knew me,�
� he says.

  At that moment, a compartment beneath the dash opens to reveal a thick, greasy burger. Zok breathes in the steam, scrunching his face as he tries to place the gamey aroma.

  “It’s something called giraffe,” Stella says. “It’s extinct – hunted out of existence for its hallucinogenic liver.”

  “Neat,” Zok mumbles, stuffing his mouth with the obscenely rare meat.

  As he’s eating and gazing out at The Foreman’s gaudy pyramid, crudely imposing itself on the otherwise perfect dark, an ad pops up on the window, obscuring his view. “Ooohh…” a woman’s voice moans gratuitously. “Come on down to Scrapper’s Ranch. We’ve got everything you want, and a few things you don’t—”

  “Ughuhuh…” Zok swipes the ad away and looks back toward the bright hangar below.

  “You know, there are other jobs,” Stella says. “Have you ever thought about trying something else?”

  “Hey, it’s not all bad,” Zok says. “If it wasn’t for the UE, I never would have met you.”

  “I know that. But it’s a big universe. There are a lot of options.”

  “What else would I do? Where would I go?”

  “You could go anywhere, and do anything,” she says. “The only boundaries are that of your imagination.”

  Zok exhales and sets his bloody burger down. “I’ve never seriously considered anything else. Anyway, that would mean I’d have to leave you. You’re property of the UE…”

  Stella is quiet for so long, Zok begins to wonder if she’s malfunctioning, until she finally says, “I don’t want to be the thing holding you back. I want you to be happy.”

  “You make me happy,” he tells her. “It’s enough just to be with you.”

  Stella mutters something unintelligible and produces a series of concerned, anxious bleeps.

  “Listen,” he says. “When this mission is over, I promise I’ll take a vacation. I could probably even convince the admiral to let me bring you along.”

  “Yeah, okay…”

  “I need something to wash this down,” he says, through a mouthful of meat.

  “Tea?” she asks. “What flavor?”

  “Well…” Zok rubs his freshly shaven chin in deliberation. “This is a complex situation. It calls for a forceful, yet measured approach, with a healthy dose of bravado – better make it Earl Gray, hot.”

  Outside, an imposing clipper with wide sails takes off from the base of the giant pyramid, cutting through the sky like a black comet, and Zok snaps to attention.

  “That is the ship I’m looking for,” he says, looking on as waves of warships and junkers stream out of the parking lot after the dark pirate ship. “It’s a bigger force than I anticipated.”

  “Should I follow them?” Stella asks.

  Zok straps himself in and, frowning at the vast scrapper army amassing outside his window, commands, “Yes, do that.”

  “You got anything good back here?” Grandpa calls from the living room, amidst a din of suspicious rummaging.

  Adam shouts, “Would you get up here and sit down? They’re going to be after us the space second they realize I didn’t give them the real black gold.”

  Grandpa totters up to the passenger seat and straps in. Adam hits the accelerator, and the Asteroid Jones II rockets up through the imitation sky.

  “Are you all right?” Adam asks.

  “Are you kidding?” Grandpa says. “This is the most action I’ve seen in years, and I had a fine time at Scrapper’s Delight.” He gazes off and sighs. “I’m really going to miss those shrimp…”

  “Well, that’s great, but we’re not out of this yet,” Adam says. “Sorry, by the way. You know, for risking your life and all.”

  Shaking his head and smiling, Grandpa says, “It was worth it. That was a first-rate switcheroo. I couldn’t have pulled it off better myself.”

  “Except now we’re as good as dead,” Adam laments.

  “They’ll have to catch us first,” Grandpa says. “Until then, relax.” He reaches into the fridge and tosses Adam an Ol’ Guard. “Hey, what’s that?”

  Turning toward the window, Adam sees a glimmer in the distance. It soon takes the shape of a small ship, and Grandpa warns, “Brace yourself,” as it hurtles toward them.

  Adam shuts his eyes and holds his hands up in defense of the imminent collision. But it never comes. He carefully peels his eyelids open to find a dinky, patchwork junker hovering in front of the window. Glaring out at the crummy ship, he opens the public channel, planning to rip its captain a new spacehole, when a familiar feline appears in the feed.

  With a big grin, Daizy asks, “You miss me?”

  “How did you find me?” Adam demands.

  “You told me where you were going,” she says.

  “So you’re here to stop me? I guess The Foreman wins after all.”

  “I’m not trying to stop you. I want to help you.”

  Adam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’ve been a lot of help so far. All you’ve done is get in the way and rat me out to The Foreman.”

  “And save your life,” she reminds him.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I told you. I want to help. Let me come with you.”

  “Why would I do that? Why would I ever trust you again?”

  Daizy frowns and her eyes begin to tear up. “Because you need me, and I’m on your side – I promise. And because… I want to be friends again. I was having fun. Weren’t you? Space can get lonely, and I haven’t had a friend in a long time.”

  “I think you should let her join us,” Grandpa interjects.

  Adam whips his head around and glares at the old man.

  “Who’s that?” Daizy asks.

  Before Adam can answer, Grandpa says, “The Silas Jones, at your service.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Daizy says. “It’s nice that you have family around. I forgot what it was like. I haven’t seen my parents in a long time. I don’t care about the black gold. I just want to be a part of your adventure.”

  “Come on,” Grandpa prods.

  “All right, fine,” Adam growls, throwing his hands up in defeat. “But hurry up. The Foreman will catch us if we stick around any longer. I think the cargo hold is big enough to fit your ship. Where’d you get it, anyway?”

  “I went back to that pawn shop on Earth,” she says. “That guy Todd hooked me up when I told him what it was for. So I guess we can call it even?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” he says.

  Stepping into the control room outside the cargo hold, he opens the wide bay doors, and Daizy carefully maneuvers her ship inside. Once the room has repressurized, she opens the bubble window that encloses her cockpit, pulls off her helmet, and shouts, “Perfect fit!”

  She jumps down, landing on her feet, and scampers up the stairs. When Adam opens the door, she lunges forward and latches onto him, nearly toppling him over.

  “It’s good to see you too,” he says.

  She stares at him with big, pleading eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

  Hugging her tight, he says, “You’re forgiven.”

  “And who is this beautiful creature?” Grandpa asks, slicking back the few remaining strands of gray hair atop his smooth head as he saunters into the room.

  “This is Grandpa,” Adam says.

  Grandpa eagerly wraps his arms around Daizy. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

  “All right, that’s enough,” Adam says, peeling the old man off her.

  “Aww,” she purrs. “He’s so cute. I see where Adam gets his dopey good looks.”

  “We don’t have time to be fishing around,” Adam reminds them.

  “It’s hot in here,” Daizy says. “I need to get out of this spacesuit.”

  “Allow me to help.” Grandpa steps toward her with his hands outstretched, blood dripping from his nose.

  “Go wait up front,” Adam says, heading him off. The old man plods away, grumbling, and Adam tells her, “I’ll give you
a minute.”

  “You don’t have to go,” she says, pointing over her shoulder. “But can you help me with this?”

  Adam pulls down the zipper of her faded spacesuit, hoping to catch another glimpse of her bare shoulders, or more, but this time she’s wearing something underneath. He steps back, and she slips the heavy suit the rest of the way off to reveal a sporty, white undersuit.

  “You got new clothes,” he says, staring.

  “Yeah, finally… you like it?”

  Adam nods and closes his mouth. “You look… good.”

  “I’m glad you finally came to your senses.” She smiles and her furry ears perk up. “I think we work good together, you know?”

  “Sure,” he says. “We make a good team.”

  “Well, since your grandpa is here…”

  “Yeah, we should probably keep our clothes on around him.”

  “I was going to say I guess you gave the black gold to The Foreman.”

  “Oh…”

  She smirks and says, “I’m sorry it worked out that way.”

  “Well, that’s not entirely accurate.” Adam stuffs his hand in his pocket and emerges with the cube.

  “You still have it?!” She gapes at him. “But how?”

  “Oh poor, sweet, naive Daizy. There are some things that just can’t be taught.”

  Daizy grabs the black gold from his hand and looks at it more closely. “I still don’t see what’s so amazing about this thing.”

  “You don’t have to see,” Adam says, snatching the thing back. “The only person who needs to see is the person who’s going to buy it.”

  “And who would that be, if you’re so smart?”

  He considers the question for a moment and says, “Well, I don’t know, exactly.”

  “I think you should just get rid of it.”

  Aghast that she would even joke about such a thing, Adam clutches the priceless object to his chest. “What would be the point of that?”

  “Look at all the trouble it’s caused you already.”

  “I don’t care. I found it fair and square, in unregulated space. Legally, it belongs to me. I’m not just going to throw it away.” Stuffing the cube back into his pocket, he turns and stomps toward the front of the ship.