Gone for a Spin (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 16)

by J. Naomi Ay

  “Yes,” Sara said quickly. “I’m going to meet my dad.”

  Jullee thought it strange that Sara was sitting in coach, considering her grandfather had more money than the treasuries of entire planets. However, she was in no position to question it, as the flight was already taxing to take-off, and that same old man, her cloaked companion was hobbling toward them. Quickly, she glanced around, trying to ascertain if there were any other empty seats besides the one on the aisle next to her. Unfortunately for Jullee and Sara, he collapsed beside them.

  Or, rather, it was fortunate for the two young women that Kinar had placed the once Great Emperor there, for ultimately, his presence saved their lives.

  “Kari-fa,” he mumbled under his breath while trying to squeeze his bad leg into the non-existent leg room. No matter which way he twisted or turned, he couldn’t place it in a comfortable position.

  Senya fervently wished for a strong drink, or equally strong narcotic with intoxicating effects. Barring either of those, he’d take a cigarette and cup of coffee, although at the moment, all passengers and attendants were hanging both vertically and upside down.

  During this dangerous portion of the ride, while Sara clutched her seat and tried to pray, Senya’s heavy black hood fell back to expose his head. Long white tendrils of curly hair, his close cropped white beard and vaguely familiar face made Jullee gasp. Although they had walked together for hours, she had never really looked at him.

  “It’s you. You’re…you’re…” She tried to speak even though the force of gravity was temporarily crushing her lungs. “You’re Barlan Rando, the film star! Oh, I knew you were someone famous.”

  Sara, on the other hand, had never heard of the infamous, and now aged, or possibly deceased star of stage and screen. Rather, she recognized the zombie that had appeared in her grandfather’s house. The Princess, too, began to cry, but not in the same manner that was consuming Jullee.

  “Help!!!” she yelled, her choked voice barely louder than a whisper.

  "Don't be afraid." Jullee patted her hand. "The worst part is over. We're straightening out."

  Indeed, they did so, and a flight attendant approached with the drink cart as soon as the plane went fully horizontal.

  "I recognize you, Mr. Rando," she gushed to Senya with a broad smile. "Even though you're hiding beneath that hood and dark glasses. I've seen every movie you've ever made. My favorite was the one about the detective and the call girl, where you and Lois Lay had an affair."

  "Right," Senya mumbled, vaguely recalling how his wife had also enjoyed that flick, although at the time he had thought it would be entertaining to only mind-numbed androids.

  "Did you know that Barlan Rando kind of looks like an older version of you?" his wife had said. "That's probably what he's trying to do with his long, curly white hair. Of course, he doesn't hold a candle to the real thing. Not even close."

  Then, she had made a purring sound in her throat, and probably jumped him, or tried to knock him down. That was the sort of thing she usually did, and reflecting on it now, Senya missed it terribly.

  "Since you're a member of our trillion mile club," the flight attendant continued. "You are welcome to as many free alcoholic drinks as you desire. But, only if you give me an autograph." She produced a pen and pulled up her shirt. "Right there, on my stomach."

  "Oh, me too!" Jullee cried.

  "Maybe later," Senya murmured and considered whether or not he wanted some vodka.

  Actually, it wasn't a question whether he wanted it, but rather would he submit. He had promised to abstain. He had vowed to be sober from here on out. But, so far, this flight was becoming even more difficult than he had anticipated.

  "How about you, ladies?" the attendant looked to Sara and Jullee.

  "Get them soda," Senya announced before either girl could speak.

  This sent the attendant scurrying back to her cart for the pop cans. However, before the drinks and legume-free snacks arrived, tragedy struck at the front of the plane.

  "She’s got Robolo!" someone yelled. "We're all going to die."

  This was followed by a flight attendant keeling over, and almost immediately turning to liquid, which ran like a river down the spaceplane's aisle. The virus consumed the entire passenger list, row by row, seat by seat, beginning with those who paid extra to be seated in First Class.

  "Ach, fuck," Senya groaned, clutching his temples, which had begun to pound, as Sara and Jullee erupted into terrified screams. "Stand on your seats. Don't touch anything, and shut up, unless you want to catch the virus in your mouth!”

  Fortunately for the girls, they immediately did as he said, which was the only reason they didn't liquefy like everyone else, including the pilots.

  Chapter 15

  Pym was watching a movie in the backroom of her shop when she heard voices shouting in the shopping arcade. This was one of her favorite films, Gone for a Spin, and starred her favorite actor of all time, Mr. Barlan Rando.

  Pym hated to pause the movie, especially now. The scene, in which Barlan’s love interest, Quiviene Gee married his arch enemy, had just begun. Even though Pym knew the marriage would eventually fail, for she had seen this movie at least two hundred times, she was on pins and needles hoping Barlan would intervene.

  In Pym’s ideal version, Barlan would beat his enemy to the altar, and from there, carry Quiviene off to his red Ferrari. Actually, in Pym’s ideal version, it wasn’t Barlan Rando who would save the day. Rather, it was the Emperor Sehron de Kudisha who would storm up the matrimonial aisle.

  Pym imagined it was herself about to be wed to a hideously ugly, four horned Worblat with a long tail. Just in the nick of time, Senya would arrive and declare the nuptials null and void. Then, he would gather Pym in his arms, and carry her back to his red Ferrari, or black Porsche, as the case may be.

  Unfortunately, about this time in Pym’s daydream, her fantasy crashed and burned. Invariably, reclining in the passenger seat of that incredibly hot speeder, would be his wife, the Captain Katie de Kudisha. Pym was relegated to the back seat, as they took to the skies en route to the luxurious estate in Takira-hahr, Rozari.

  “And, you’ll need to feed Muffin and Lulu twice a day,” the Captain would be saying over the roar of the highly tuned and high performance, turbocharged engines. “Be sure they go outside before bed, and if not, you’ll have to take them for a walk. The poop bags are in the kitchen in the drawer beneath the sink. Thank you so much for doing this, Pym. We are so fortunate to be able to depend on you, whilst we’re on vacation.”

  “Yes, Madame,” Pym would reply, trying to stifle a heavy sigh. “I am always here, ready to be of service.”

  Once left at the doorstep of the servants’ wing, Pym would sadly watch that red Ferrari, or black Porsche, fly away. Muffin and Lulu would be at her side, equally despondent, their fluffy snouts turned down in doggie frowns.

  “Come on. Let’s get you some kibble,” she would say, while silently, under her breath, she would wish for the Captain’s speedy, and violent demise.

  “I am not going to stay here,” Joanne insisted, her voice rising above the soundtrack on Pym’s movie. “I don’t care if there’s a ground stop in place, and I don’t care if the parts for our plane never come. I’m going to leave now if I have to fly that damn spaceplane myself.”

  “Joanne, be reasonable,” Jim replied. “It’s only going to be for a few more days.”

  “Days! Look around, Jim.” Joanne waved her arms at the three drunken Cascadians whose enormous, long bodies were obstructing the terminal’s moving walkway.

  “Yeah, well,” Jim started again, only to be interrupted by another exasperated noise from Joanne.

  “Over there." She pointed emphatically at two dead Luminerians, their petrified limbs crumbling against the shuttered coffee shop.

  Pym had noticed those corpses for at least a week, maybe even longer. She made a habit of stepping over them, doing her best not to disturb any of their six appendage
s.

  “This place is toxic even without the Robolo virus,” Joanne continued. “I will not force my kids to stay here another minute. You!” Joanne looked at Pym, as she trounced into the empty mini-mart. “Where do I go to purchase United StarLines tickets? There’s no one upstairs on the commercial docks. This whole damn station is empty.”

  “It used to be on Deck Five,” Pym shrugged, “but they have all closed up, and gone away. Only Trident Stars stops here anymore, and they are in the charter dock on Deck Six.”

  “Fine, we’ll fly on Trident Stars if we have to,” Joanne announced, already halfway out of the store.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to fly Trident,” Jim chuckled, while glancing at the near-empty refrigerated cooler against wall. There was a can of Beer-Beer, and a bottle of blue Gatorade, as well as a package of old cheese. Jim took out the beer and studied the label, before deciding against it. “Some frat bros and I once took a Trident Stars charter on a gambling weekend to Altaris II’s fourth moon. We were lucky to get there alive. Half the plane disintegrated in mid-space, but most of the passengers and crew were too drunk to notice. I was surprisingly sober, which was because they only served Cyganian Firewater, which I don’t like.”

  “Yes, they are often broken,” Pym agreed, for Trident Stars was known for cheap fares above all else. “And, Cyganian Firewater tastes very bad. You are better to stay here in the hotel, and wait for your repair.”

  “The hotel is infested with rats!” Joanne shrieked. “My kids are afraid to go in the room. I mean it, Jim. We need to leave right now.”

  “I agree,” Shelly announced, joining the trio in the shop with Rory and Carolie close behind. “I won’t stay here either, Jimmy. Let’s go back to the plane. Call the pilot. If we have to limp to the next spaceport, we must do it. It’s just not safe.”

  “I don’t think this place is so bad,” Rory said. “Some of the rats are kind of cute.”

  “Compared to you,” Carolie snapped. “I want to leave here before we die.”

  Reluctantly, Jim lifted up his cell, and rang the pilot, who was sitting on a barstool three decks above, drinking the last of the Cyganian Firewater that was on tap.

  “Dude,” he said. “Put down your drink. It’s time to fly.”

  No one could hear the man’s response, although from the way Jim screwed up his face and held the cell away from his ear, it was clear the pilot had no intention of leaving.

  “Sorry.” Jim snapped the cell closed, before stuffing it back into his pocket. “No parts, no pilot. We’re stuck. Come on, Jo, let's make the best of it.” He forced a toothy grin, and winked one eye.

  “No!” Joanne wailed. “I mean it. I’ll fly that damn plane myself. It can’t be that difficult. My ex-mother-in-law certainly could do it.”

  “Katie was always very capable,” Shelly said, following Joanne out of the store. “She also had years of flight training in Spaceforce.”

  “I’m sure I can find a MeTube video with instructions. Carolie, Rory, follow me. We’re leaving.”

  “Wait! Joanne! Stop!" Jim raced after her down the mall.

  Pym watched the humans hurry off, once again shaking her head at their odd antics. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was time to close the shop, and wander across the terminal for her nightly cup of froyo.

  “Would you like some, my love?” she asked Senya, who was busily working on an important equation in the backroom. It had to do with the virus that was spreading throughout the galaxy. He was sitting at the desk with a tablet, typing away, supposedly, devising an antidote or a vaccine, or something like that.

  Pym hadn’t really paid too much attention to his work, for it was beyond the constraints of her Andorian brain. However, the cure, or whatever he was busy calculating, had perplexed him for many days and nights. Pym worried after him, for he was under a great deal of pressure.

  “No, thank you,” he replied, glancing up from his desk.

  Pym smiled and blushed, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. That was the best part about loving a blind man. He never turned away with revulsion or shock at the ugliness of her face, or odd shape of her body. At the same time, he was completely oblivious to his own immense beauty. And, Senya was beautiful in Pym’s eyes, even more magnificent than he had been in his youth. Now, he glowed with shining silver hair, and body as finely sculpted as Michelangelo’s David. Just gazing at him warmed her spine, and made her nether regions quiver with desire.

  “I’ll be back shortly,” she assured him as she did every night, anticipating the pleasure that bedtime would undoubtedly bring. "Will you go to bed early? You've been working far too hard."

  "No, Pym. I shan't stop until I find the cure."

  "Good luck then," she blew a kiss, "See you soon."

  However, instead of his usual good wishes to enjoy her froyo cup, and a corresponding desire to hasten her return, he sat back in his chair, and rubbed his tired eyes, before turning the bright silver light in her direction.

  “No, you shan’t, Pym,” he said. “You are going away, as am I when this is done.”

  “No?” Pym repeated. “Where will I go?”

  “You’ll have to fly a spaceplane, Pym, since those humans are not able.”

  Pym had never flown a spaceplane either, so this command was quite strange, and a bit unnerving. However, she trusted Senya unequivocally, and thus, would do as he decreed.

  “Use Google,” Senya said. “Or, MeTube, just like the lady proposed. It shan’t be a whole lot different than how you play in your vid games. You shall discover you are quite proficient. Now, hurry along, lest they attempt to leave without you, and crash the plane.”

  “Will you come, too?” Pym gathered her only sweater, her warm boots, and her old handbag. “I shall miss you terribly, if you don’t.”

  Senya smiled and the silver light flickered brightly behind his dark glasses.

  “You know, I am always with you, Pym. I am forever behind your back. I am the guardian angel who guides you on your way.”

  Pym nodded, and her heart swelled with something akin to love, but more so if that was at all possible.

  “Goodbye, my love,” she cried.

  “Goodbye, Pym.” He turned back to his work.

  Then, she hurried through the decrepit station, down four decks, and across the docks to the waiting spaceplane where the humans were all shouting at each other.

  Chapter 16

  “We’re going to die,” Jullee shrieked when there was no one else left alive on the spaceplane.

  “Indeed, we are,” Senya grumbled. “Although, some of us may already be dead.”

  “If I don’t die right now,” Sara swore. “I am never ever ever going to fly on a spaceplane again.”

  “Quiet!” Senya pulled himself up, to stand on the seat just as he had told the girls to do. He had to bend over, as the space above him was even less than the non-existent legroom, causing his head to bump against the overhead bin. “Let me listen.”

  “To what?” Jullee asked. “Everyone else aboard is dead.”

  “To the fucking virus,” he snapped. “’Tis still moving about in the remains of the bodies strewn about this plane.”

  “Eek!” Sara gasped, practically jumping into Jullee’s arms. The girls clutched each other, while trembling with fear.

  “You can hear it?” Jullee whispered, imaging a virus as large as an Altarian slime worm wiggling its way down the empty aisle.

  “I can, if you shut up."

  Senya climbed over the seat to the back row of the passenger cabin, and from there leaned into the now-vacant galley. He avoided touching the floor with his shoes, lest he accidentally contaminate the seats and kill one or both girls where they stood.

  He could save them, though. All he had to do was give them his antibodies, for in his blood, he had protection from every disease known to mankind. All he needed was a knife, and a cup or glass to catch the blood. If he could have recalled where his special cupboard w
ith his own blade was, he might have summoned it, but he couldn’t.

  "Where the fuck is a knife?" he growled, peering into the galley and willing the drawers to open. Surprisingly, they did so with ease. This momentarily both startled and pleased him.

  Unfortunately, although he willed a knife to appear, nothing sharp presented itself to his hand. The only knife Senya found was in a wrapped set of plastic cutlery on the cart that was stocked with tiny bottles of alcohol.

  "What the fuck is this?" he asked, returning to his seat with a handful of miniature vodka bottles for later, and the cutlery set.

  "It's a spork," Jullee replied. "It's useful for eating things like pasta and potatoes."

  Senya tested it against the inside of his wrist. The plastic tines barely managed to dent the skin. He pushed it a little harder, whereupon the spork bent and snapped in two. His only option now was to use the plastic knife.

  "Stop!" Jullee cried, as he sawed his skin back and forth. From her perspective, it appeared that he was committing suicide, albeit slowly. Was their situation so dire that he was reduced to killing himself with picnic ware? "Don't leave us alone," she begged. "Barlan Rando, you're our only hope."

  “No, he’s not,” Sara said. “That was a different flick.”

  Senya managed to saw a tiny crack in his skin. A minuscule bead of blood trickled to the surface, whereupon he continued until he sliced the vein, and a decent amount began to flow.

  "No! Don't!" Jullee leapt for his arm.

  Instinctively, Senya knocked her away, sending her back against the side of the plane. She hit her head on the headrest of the seat behind her, and immediately, passed out. Sara began to scream again, convinced she was experiencing a nightmare of epic proportions. If only, she could wake herself up to discover she was still in her bed, preferably at the school dormitory, and not in the ghostly house in Takira-hahr.

  "Shut up!" Senya snapped, for his head was already pounding with an encroaching migraine. He had managed to drizzle about a tablespoon of blood into an empty, red plastic Solo cup, before it clotted and his wrist scabbed over. Since the girls were both fairly small and light weight, this ought to be enough. "Drink this." He turned on Sara, thrusting the cup at her.