by M. D. Cooper
“Agh!” Ben shouted as he lost grip on the controls and shot toward the starboard side of the cockpit. Behind him, three-hundred pounds of rock hard sexbot collided with the bulkhead face-first. “Better you than me,” he said as he reached toward the controls and disengaged the thruster. The Shistain quietly settled into a calm drift, no longer draining the blood from Ben’s face from the increased thrust.
“What happened?” Chip said, his voice a high lisp and sounding like a whistle at the end of each word.
Ben shot a glance towards him and noticed Chip standing there missing one of his front teeth. He would have laughed, but he had the sinking feeling there was more than just the obvious damage, that the Chip he needed had not downloaded fully before careening towards the bulkhead like a torpedo.
“Satellite,” Ben said.
“That sucks,” Chip said, sounding more like “thath thuths”. The reconciling part being that it sounded more like what “his” Chip would say instead of Diva Chip.
“Did the upgrade work?” Ben asked, feeling a little bit of hope.
“Partially,” Chip said, shoving his artificial tooth back into place and sounding more like himself, though not perfect. “My motor skills and technical knowledge are fully downloaded, but I still have some of the original programming that was not overridden and I’m very upset with you.”
“Well, you can be upset all you want, but as long as you don’t act like a snotty brat, I’m OK with it.”
“Get strapped in,” Chip said as he dropped into his seat, taking the controls. “You burned a lot of fuel keeping the thruster on for that long.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now. We just need to make sure we enter orbit at the right spot to conserve as much fuel as possible because crashing in a fiery blaze would suck after spending all this time in space,” Chip said, looking at Ben with his eyebrows raised as if he was anticipating a laugh at his obvious joke.
“Yeah,” Ben said, “just keep your eye on the ball and get us home in one piece.”
Chip smirked. “Why would you tease me like that?”
“Like what?” Ben asked.
“Asking me to keep my eye on the ball. That’s not the only thing I want to do with it,” he answered with flirtatious inflection.
“Oh, God.”
“Oh, exactly,” Chip replied. “Exactly”.
Chap+er Four
As the ship approached the dark masses of alien spacecraft, Ben’s hands gripped the controls, his knuckles white, and sweat poured from his face. “I’ve got to get us through this,” he said. Chip sat next to him, not seeing what Ben was looking at, but doing his best to be supportive of his human companion.
“Is there anything you need me to do, Captain?”
Ben inhaled sharply, sucking in the stale air of the ship and letting it out in a slow exhale. “Just take the controls if I pass out again,” he replied. It sounded more like preemptive warning than just a precaution.
“Aye, Captain.”
Ben realized he was closer to breaking through Earth’s atmosphere than he thought when the ship began to shake and rattle while the dark masses began to close together trying to block Ben’s path to his home planet. He slapped his hand on the side of the monitor and the screen blinked out momentarily, revealing a new set of coordinates and a much lower fuel load than before. He groaned at the data, but he couldn’t do anything to change it.
“They are closing in on me, I don’t know if I can get us past them,” and said, his voice oozing fear. He accelerated despite knowing it would burn more fuel. “Keep an eye on the fuel gauge for me.”
Chip moved the monitor closer so he could scan it and relay the engine parameter and fuel quantity information to Ben as needed. “We’re about two-hundred pounds beyond Bingo at this point,” Chip said. “If you don’t enter atmosphere at the right point, we might run out of fuel and drop into the ocean.”
“Fark,” Chip said, pulling back the throttles and hoping Earth’s gravity well would pull them in at a constant rate of speed. Through the monitors, he watched the spaceships edge closer to one another, their massive hulls closing like giant barn doors, threatening to cut off his escape. “It’s going be a tight fit, Chip,” he said nervously.
“That’s what he said,” Chip replied flirtatiously. The software update was only ninety-two percent complete and the remaining eight percent of original programming still seeped into the conversation from time to time. Despite that, Ben chuckled at Chip’s joke. At least he took it as a joke. It’s a joke… “that’s what he said” …fark.
“Please don’t distract me with humor, I’m having a hard enough time concentrating as it is,” Ben warned as he wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. “I’m starting to feel like shit again.”
“You need me to take the controls?”
“No, not yet.” Ben grimaced as he maneuvered the ship, trying to narrow its profile as the alien spacecrafts closed in on each other. He strained to maintain consciousness, his eyes wide for fear that the Shistain might not be fast enough to get past the alien craft before being crushed by their massive, steel hulls. He had the sinking feeling that fear was the only thing keeping him from passing out.
“Two-hundred and fifty pounds past bingo,” Chip said, “if you maintain your current trajectory, we would just make it.”
Ben looked at his companion and nodded an acknowledgment. “Here’s hoping for a miracle.” Ben fought hard, holding his breath and focusing on the monitor and the direction the ship was heading. Chip looked at him, his eyebrows lifted, looking like he would be concerned if he had human emotions, or surprised. Ben’s hands felt like ice and he suddenly realized he was no longer sweating. Shit, I’m probably dehydrated and close to having a stroke, he thought. The fever, moving between one-hundred and one-hundred and three degrees, caused him to sweat profusely and he didn’t have enough recycled water to stay hydrated properly. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the dick, to finally land on Earth, but die because I ran out of rations?
“Are you all right?” Chip asked.
Ben didn’t want to tell him the truth, that he thought he was minutes away from stroking out, but it was hard to face the inevitable truth, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Just keep your hands on the controls, I don’t think I have much more left in me,” Ben replied.
“Do you want me to radio Earth?”
“Please do,” Ben answered, gasping for air to stay conscious. “Just please don’t let me die.”
Chip grabbed the handheld microphone and scanned the radio for the correct channel. “Shistain to Earth, this is Benjamin Dale, do you copy?” Ben smiled at the fact Chip used his name to communicate. Robots and AI systems uploaded to ships were commonly used for communications, but Ben had warned Chip that he might not be taken seriously if using his own name. Chip just didn’t sound like the name for someone on board a space vessel.
“I read you loud and clear, Shistain.” The woman’s voice on the other side of the transmission reminded Ben what a human woman sounded like after so many months away. He didn’t know if it was the fever, or the first time hearing a woman speak, but he felt slightly aroused and didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it.
“She sounds hot,” Ben whispered, eliciting a smirk from Chip before the robot responded to the air traffic controller.
“Yes, I just wanted to inform you that we are in route and need permission to land. Also, I asked for medical personnel on standby for a passenger.” Ben glared at him, not remembering any such request having been made. He motioned to ask Chip what he was talking about, but the radio sprang to life before he was able.
“Roger that, Shistain. I am uploading landing information to your ship’s computer. You will be directed to the port via autopilot engagement. Have a safe landing.”
“Copy that, thank you,” Chip replied, “Shistain out.” Chip set down the microphone and settled back in his se
at, avoiding Ben’s gaze.
“What the hell do we need medical personnel for?”
Chip shrugged. “Just in case, Ben.”
“In case of what?” Ben’s mood changed to agitation. He glowered at his companion. “I’m not dying.”
“I didn’t say you were, but your fever is bad and has been for days. This is just a precaution.”
“A farking precaution!” Ben snapped, kicking the console of the ship and causing a momentary lapse in power. He looked around, confused by what was happening.
“Come on, Ben,” Chip whined, attempting to settle the human down before he completely lost his shit. “Fark, the computer is offline and autopilot cannot engage. All the port information is gone as well.”
“Fix it.” Ben tried to scramble up into his seat to assist the robot, regretting the fact he damaged his own ship in a fit of misplaced rage. It was unlike him and he knew Chip was right. Moments of clarity were getting harder to come by.
“I can’t. We are about to enter atmosphere and we don’t have enough fuel to change course. I’m going to have to fly us in.”
“Ugh,” Ben groaned, holding onto his stomach as another sharp pain crippled him. He found it hard to breathe.
“Are you all right?”
Ben groaned again, sucking in air and exhaling through his teeth in an audible hiss. He leaned forward, pale-faced and eyes wide.
“Just hold on, Ben,” Chip said, taking control of the ship as Ben slumped back into his seat, his hands falling off the controls. He was still conscious, but too weak to help. “Are you still with me?” Chip asked, keeping his eyes on the monitor so he could enter Earth’s atmosphere at the right position.
“Barely,” Ben replied, his voice soft, weak, fading.
As the ship entered Earth’s atmosphere, gravitational forces increased, pinning Ben to his seat, causing the blood already flowing weakly through his veins to not circulate properly. He had a hard time focusing on what was happening, his vision tunneling between the intermittent darkness he was experiencing. Only the dull rumble of the ship encountering turbulence kept him awake enough to partially know what was going on. He could not focus on the monitor or the sound of the robot’s voice as it spoke. Time seemed to slow down for him as the turbulence increased the lower in the sky the ship went. The jostling of the Shistain made him feel like he was on the raging seas of the Indian Ocean during a storm. “Chip,” he whispered meekly. Through blurry eyes he saw the robot look in his direction and could see his companion’s mouth move, but he could not understand what was being said.
The look on Chip’s face changed suddenly as he looked away from Ben, ignoring his captain to focus on something outside of Ben’s peripheral vision. Ben wanted to ask what was going on, to force himself to be cognizant enough to help, but he was useless, capable of only being along for the ride for as far as the ship could take them. The monitors in front of Chip darkened, but Ben could not tell why, and with the loss of illumination he had a hard time focusing on the bot. So long as the ship is still moving, I’m not dead, he thought as another violent bout with turbulence caused the ship to shudder.
Next to him, Chip grappled with the controls, trying to lower the thrust of the ship to conserve fuel, but it was a delicate balance between conserving fuel and losing lift, which would result in their plummeting closer to the surface in a fiery blaze. Chip swore under his breath, imitating the wit Ben often displayed while commanding the ship, but his words fell on deaf ears and didn’t change things for the better. The further they fell from the sky, the faster Ben’s life was to ending. Chip knew the captain was in his hands. From a computer standpoint, he shouldn’t care, but learning empathy over the course of several months made him feel guilty to know that he could be the only thing standing between Ben’s living or dying. At least he thought that was what the hell the logic impulses sparked by his software upgrade was leading him to believe.
In the monitor, Chip could see the shoreline of New York City. The tall, magnificent buildings of the metropolis towered above the ground, reaching towards a dark and cloudy sky. “Come on,” Chip said, reducing thrusts as the ship ran on fumes and an ounce of hope.
Rushing towards the city, the Shistain was finally above ground, but with nowhere to land. The ship should have been locked in on the port, but instead it soared over a dilapidated cityscape.
And then the engines shut down.
With no power and no way to produce lift, the Shistain hurtled towards the ground. Strapped in his seat, Ben groaned and gasped as the ship spun wildly out of control. “Chip, what the hell happened?” he croaked, trying to keep from dry heaving.
Chip slapped the monitor, causing it to repopulate the data. “We ran out of fuel, Captain, and I can’t get the engines back online.”
Oh great, Ben thought, I really am going to die. “Can you do anything?”
Chip tried to manhandle the controls, but everything about the ship was fly-by-wire, requiring an electrical impulse to make the actuators move the flight control surfaces. Without power, the ship was nothing more than a falling, metallic rock. “I’ve got nothing,” Chip replied, “I suggest you hold on to something.”
“Like what?”
He looked over at Ben, his eyebrows raised and his lips pursed. “I can suggest something,” he answered, the inflection in his voice more seductive than helpful.
“Really? I’m about to die and you’re still trying to get into my pants?” Not wanting to waste the last few seconds of his life arguing about etiquette, Ben focused on trying to find something to hold onto for when the ship hit the ground. With nothing nearby, he settled on holding the shoulder straps, after tightening the harness. “I’m too young to die.”
“That statement is a little ridiculous, don’t you think Captain? I mean, there’s no mandatory age for death, children die, and you are much older than a child, though sometimes you tend to act like one. In fact, it’s been my experience of late —” Chip’s point was cut off by the sensation of the ship striking the surface, or at least Ben thought it was the surface. The Shistain collided with something on the outside, something hard, but not impenetrable as the ship continued its forward momentum. The sudden deceleration and drop let Ben know right away that they slammed into a building—how tall he was unsure—but the next, sudden impact with the ground was enough to snap his body around like a rag ball, causing him to lose consciousness.
Chap+er Five
The chirping sound of the smoke alarm filled Ben’s ears, pulling him from his slumber. Vomit mixed with drool covered the front of his shirt, but it was unclear if it was from the sickness or the fact the Shistain spun relentlessly on its collision with the ground. “What the hell?” Ben croaked, choking on the smell of magnesium and carbon fiber burning somewhere in his proximity. “Chip?” he called out before choking on the smoke.
There was no answer.
“Chip?” He called again, unlatching his restraints and falling from his seat because his legs were too weak to support his body. His first instinct was that they were broken, but he assured himself if that was the case they would hurt like hell and he would not be able to move them.
Possibly.
“Chip, where are you? I need your help.”
The only sound Ben could hear was the chirp of the alarm and the sound of air hissing from ruptured lines inside the ship. Through squinty eyes, he saw the Shistain in her bitter defeat from her fight with gravity. His ship—his pride—was essentially destroyed. “Ugh,” he groaned, feeling like the world had crashed down on him, kicking him in the ribs while pulling his underwear over his head like a bully in high school. “I just can’t catch a break.”
He moved slowly across the deck, with tunnel vision and weak legs, but still alive. “Chip?” he called again, expecting the same response as before yet heartbroken when it came true. His companion was gone and he felt lost. “Those farking aliens must have taken him!” He looked around for a clue, but the only light in the cabin
was the green emergency lights. All the monitors were off, and he could not see outside the ship where the bastards were taking over his planet.
“I’m going to get you farkers,” Ben seethed as he made his way to the cargo hold where his only weapon was stashed. “I don’t care if I have to crawl on my stomach and blast your asses at the kneecaps, I’m going to kill every last one of you,” he croaked in the empty compartment of the Shistain where no one could hear him but himself. Hearing his words echo in his ears, he was struck with a thought. Do aliens even have kneecaps? It doesn’t matter, I’ll shoot them where the kneecaps would be.
“Chip,” he said without meaning to. He knew the robot was gone, taken from the ship without his knowing it. But why not take me as well? Is it because I can see them, which means I can fight back? It has to be. That means I’m the only one who can save Earth.
“Just wait until those farkers get a load of me,” he said, forcing himself to stand, supporting himself with his left arm clasped to the bulkhead. He felt like he would pass out, but he didn’t know if it was because he was hungry, still sick, or if it was shock at surviving a crash. It doesn’t matter why I feel like shit, so long as I have breath to fight these assholes, it’ll be a good farking day, he thought before falling into a pile of trash from a sudden but violent dizzy spell.
“Maybe I should wait until this passes before I go out there,” he mumbled as the constant croaking of the alarm kept him on edge and unable to rest. “Ugh, I’ll rest when I’m dead.” Ben stood up and fished his way through the piles of trash he’d collected during several months in space. His once pristine-ish ship looked like a disaster.
It reminded him of his life.
“I’m coming to get you, Chip. You can believe that, you big hulking, piece of horny steel. I just have to find my laser gun first.”
After an exhaustive search, Ben found the laser gun in a box with a mountain of trash bags piled on top. “There you are,” he said as he ran a finger along the smooth surface of it. The last time he used it, he had thwarted space pirates who breached his ship. Of course, Chip had helped and Ben never fired a shot, though the two men were spaced as a result. Taking a life in that moment was self-defense, but this time it would be for the sake of humanity. He smiled wickedly as he shoved it into a holster attached to his belt, letting it slide into place midthigh, which made it easier to draw. “I need something else.” He made several wobbling turns inside the cargo bay before finding the canisters he was looking for. With no bandolier, he had only pockets to put them in, and after several attempts, he had to walk away with only one grenade in his pocket. “This will have to do,” he said, feeling that time was running away from him, and he needed to act now if he was going to save Chip.