Space Patrol!

by Sarah Nicole Nadler

  “And what qualifies as a legal capture of slaves?” Shiro’s question was almost philosophical, as though his interest were purely academic.

  “In order to be legal, a slave must be either purchased with legal tender from a world government, or captured from a primitive planet,” Mr. Piff recited.

  Lissa looked nervously at the Mursi. Earth was almost certainly a primitive planet by space standards. Why, most of their populace still believed there was no such thing as space travel! Aliens were the things of bedtime stories and sci-fi movies.

  “We just elected a World Government only a few months ago,” she admitted reluctantly, “But our constitution states that slavery is illegal on Earth. I’m pretty sure our President didn’t sell us to him,” she added doubtfully.

  “Wait, you came from this planet? Earth?” The Patrol Captain sounded excited, or at least the bot’s translation made it seem so.

  “Yeah,” Lissa answered slowly, “Does that matter?”

  “Damn right it does!” Mr. Piff crowed excitedly, looking over his shoulder at his senior officer, “We’ve got them now, don’t we Captain!”

  “What is it?” Shika demanded, “What does that mean?”

  “Earth has long been considered a Protected Planet,” the Patrol Captain explained, “Per the laws of space, you were not to be contacted until Man had proved himself to be a civilized world—that is, until you had a World Government. Since that has now been formed, Captain Nask ought to have offered your people a chance to become GTC clientele. If he did not…”

  “If he didn’t then we’re free!” Lissa interjected excitedly.

  “More than that,” Mr. Piff added, “If you were kidnapped and denied the opportunity to join the galactic community, heavy fines will be levied against him. You could possibly claim his ship in compensation.”

  “Whoa! You mean, we could own a space ship?” Lissa cried. She looked around at the cargo bay. This would make a great merchant vessel if they converted the cells to storage spaces. The glass hallway would be like a show room.

  “I know how to sail,” she piped excitedly.

  “Astral navigation is somewhat more complicated than ocean cruising, but the principles are the same in a ship such as this,” the Patrol Captain assured her, “Your Europan companion would certainly be an asset if you chose to take to the stars.”

  “So octopi really can navigate?” Shiro inquired of the Captain, “I overheard the pirate explaining this.”

  “Indeed, most are quite skilled at it,” Mr. Piff answered, “That one is rather young, I believe,” he peered into the water tank beside them and gave a polite nod to the octopus.

  “Having arranged for his release from slavery you will likely find him a most willing crew member,” the Captain added wryly.

  At just that moment, the top button on his lapel blinked and gave a short beep. He lifted it toward his mouth and spoke rapidly into it. The translator bot, ignoring this private conversation, was silent at Lissa’s left. The Captain listened, and when they were done he said, “There it is. You are indeed illegal slaves of Captain Arol Nask and I pronounce you freed by the laws of space.” He gave a formal bow in Lissa’s direction, having decided apparently that she, being the main spokesperson of their small group, was also its leader.

  “Hurrah!” Stephanie squealed. She hugged Lissa in relief, “Let’s go home. I never want to fly again.”

  “Or eat sushi,” Ash muttered.

  Lissa heard a commotion from above. She needed no Translator to tell her Captain Nask was protesting at the top of his lungs. The five children followed the Patrol Captain as he climbed the rungs of the ladder up to the deck.

  The assembled pirates were lashed to the foremast in various states of chagrin. Captain Nask had apparently been speaking separately to one of the officials, and as they watched he was dragged away from his crew.

  An officer of the Patrol extended a plank out from the rail in solemn formality.Two others on either side of him saluted. Captain Nask was shoved between them, cursing loudly all the while. He stood on the edge of the plank, his eyes fixed in a glare of rage and fear at the officer who tended the rail.

  “What’s happening?” Lissa asked Mr. Piff who had come to stand beside her.

  “Captain Nask has been found guilty of illegal enslavement, theft, mayhem and firing on a licensed law enforcement ship. The penalty is execution by ejection,” Mr. Piff said solemnly.

  “You’re going to execute him?” Lissa rounded on the shorter alien, horrified, “Just like that?”

  “The evidence is incontrovertible,” If she was not mistaken, the alien looked rather surprised, “Would you have us wait until he does it again?”

  Lissa stared numbly out across the deck toward the scene that was unfolding. He would have sold us. She reminded herself, Or made us into ground meat for some alien restaurant.

  Yet the sight was truly horrifying. Captain Nask fought savagely, throwing his weight against the smaller Patrolmen who shoved him onward. He was on the plank now, fighting to go back. One meerkat zapped him with a prong that sizzled at one end. He fell to the ground with a thud, only to rouse instantly and swipe out at the creature. Three others pressed him back, wielding prongs of their own. At last he was up against the airlock. An officer barked an order and the other Patrolmen fell back. Nask snarled at them all, but remained where he was. A sort of desperation lit his features so starkly that Lissa could hardly bear it.

  “Wait!” She cried, “Isn’t there some other way?”

  “We are bound to follow the laws of the galaxy we inhabit,” Mr. Piff said. His face was stern, but Lissa could see pain in his eyes, as though the necessity of punishing the pirate wounded him.

  Now Nask was within the airlock chamber. The officer pressed a button and the plank on which the pirate captain stood shot out until it extended beyond the transparent dome that held in the pressurized atmosphere of the ship. Lissa turned away. She saw Stephanie who had buried her face in Shika’s shoulder. The tribal girl was staring at the proceedings with wide eyes. Ash stood just beyond his sister, a tight grip on his spear and a vengeful gleam in his eyes. Lissa shuddered and averted her gaze.

  “Thus is the end of Captain Arol Nask,” Mr. Piff whispered softly.

  Lissa glanced at him. She wasn’t sure what emotion she felt exactly. The Captain had tried to sell her as an alien hors d’oeuvre, or whatever the space equivalent was. Yet, she had never seen anyone die before. Space Patrol seemed to execute justice with unnerving precision.

  “We have heard further word,” The Patrol Captain touched her shoulder as she turned, meaning to retreat below.

  “Your government appears to have not received any invitation to join the Galactic Trade Company. A message is being broadcast to the nearest Representative informing him of your new status and a visit should be forthcoming shortly.”

  Lissa Aboard

  Lissa paused at the hatchway before descending ‘tween decks. Stephanie clutching her elbow from just behind her. The alien space slaver was behind them, his ray pistol held firmly between his three rubbery fingers. He jabbed its butt into her spine to keep her moving along and Lissa stumbled, wavering for one treacherous moment above the cold metal ladder that led to the cargo hold below, until Stephanie’s tight grip on her arm steadied her. She clutched the railing and gaped at the yawning hole.

  “Get a move on,” the robot translated the captain’s growls and squeals. The bot had changed to a literal translation rather than the involved explanations he had started to give. She found it easier to understand this way, although the side comments had been useful information. Not useful enough to help me figure out what to do with this mad situation though. We’ve been kidnapped!

  “I don’t have a whole sun-turn!” The bot added for the Captain’s sake.

  Whatever that was, thought Lissa. He prodded her again.

  She peered down the long drop to where the ladder disappeared into darkness. She was pretending courag
e she didn’t feel, knowing from just one look into Stephanie’s face that the other girl was terrified. An alien stepped out of the gloom and peered up at them from below—it was a guard dressed in the same muted gray colors as Captain Nask, holding a second ray pistol which he waved airily in her direction while motioning for her to descend the ladder.

  Great, she thought ironically, another laser gun to point at me. Do I really seem so dangerous? I’m eleven!

  But apparently age was no guarantee of safety to these alien minds. They watched her climb below with small black eyes set deep in their green mottled skin. Captain Nask’s face had an oily gleam in the eerie artificial light of the cargo hold, and a stench of alien sweat oozed off of them into the air which her breath mask could not filter completely as she passed the guard and followed his gestures with his gun toward the far end of the hold.

  The translation robot had told her she was going down to the cargo bay. To her shock and revulsion, the ship’s cargo was not boxes of goods from various planets, nor was there a cache of strange weapons or alien technology. The corridor she stepped into was lined with the glass walls of cages—cages that held…humans.

  There was an African boy, wearing little at all but a scrap of cloth over his loins and white paint across his black cheeks, still clutching a spear in his sinewy hand. His black eyes bore into his captors with a deep hatred that made her shiver. Despite his passionate demeanor he looked little older than Lissa.

  “Oh, look!” Stephanie was pulled out of her shocked reverie. She pointed forward. In the next cage sat a Mongol boy with a haughty face. He was clothed in a thick coat of white fur and an embroidered red silk cap. The thick glass that separated them made Lissa feel she was in a museum staring at the habitats of wild animals. What had caught Stephanie’s eye and made her point was a beautiful golden eagle that sat on the boy’s wrist and mantled at them before settling down at a touch from his master.

  The boy was cross-legged on the ground, his face impassive. With his eyes averted, he studiously ignored them as though it were beneath him to grant importance to aliens, but his feathered companion was not above snapping out angrily in Nask’s direction. The Captain lumbered on, unperturbed by the hostility in the hallway.

  Nask paused before the next cage to tap the glass. Now his thick grey lips stretched wide in a grin. Lissa peered around him and saw that this cage was different—over five feet of water sat on the other side of the glass, the surface lapping slightly above her head. The water was murky and opaque—she saw nothing but seaweed waving slowly back and forth as she stared into its depths.

  “Why do you have a bunch of water?”

  “Stupid Earthling!” He made to cuff her ear but Lissa ducked away, narrowly missing his fist, “That’s not just water,” he gloated, “Look closer.”

  She strained her eyes to see through the blue-green ocean tank, and then…

  “An octopus?”

  She turned to face her alien captors, “You came all the way to Earth for a bunch of kids and a pet?”

  The alien Captain guffawed, “That’s no pet, little Earthling. That’s a highly advanced intelligent life form from one of the moons of Jupiter,” he nodded wisely toward the tiny blue-ringed octopus floating in seawater on the other side of the glass cell wall.

  “It looks like an octopus to me.”

  “Their home,” Nask ignored her comment, “is shielded by a thick ice crust. Underneath the salt ocean is heated by the planet’s core. Millions of life forms are swimming around in there. Earth has become a popular vacationing spot for these little guys,” he wiggled a fond finger at his captive cephalopod, “Although I think it’s kinda getting discouraged now since they keep getting eaten by the indigenous population.”

  Lissa turned a little green.

  “We’re serving sentient aliens in sushi restaurants??” Stephanie gulped, horrified. One hand went to her mouth and she looked like she was trying not to listen to her gurgling stomach.

  “Yup,” he chuckled indifferently, “Well I say, if they’re dumb enough to vacation on a planet where they’re low on the food chain...” He grinned.

  “Is that why you caught him?” Lissa asked, never taking her eyes off the small creature.

  “Exploding suns, no!” He swore, looking surprised, “I’d never eat an Europan. These little guys are the best mathematicians in the Universe. Make darn-good navigators, they do. I just gotta persuade him to mind me.”

  His eyebrows wiggled evilly, and Lissa swallowed hard—not wanting to think what this cruel Captain might do to the poor alien octopus in order to “persuade” him. Did Nask have a torture chamber on this ship?

  “What’s a Europan?” Stephanie interjected.

  “Europa is the Earth name for the sixth moon of Jupiter. As that is where this species originated, their genus is best translated as ‘Europan’—or, ‘inhabitant of Europa’.” The translator bot explained, his hover jets tilted forward in a quick bow.

  Just at that moment, a shudder seemed to run through the hull, making their feet quake. Lissa saw a rippling wave slosh water against the glass wall of the sea tank. The octopus bobbed up and down in reaction and his eyes grew wide for an instant.

  “What was that?” Lissa cried, turning to Nask. A second shudder made her stumble sideways and a crackle came over Nask’s short-wave. The Translator bot, having no orders to the contrary, continued to translate for Lissa, “Space Patrol, Captain! You better get up here!”

  “By the exploding suns!” Nask cursed, “Why are they firing on us?”

  He seemed to forget all about the two girls. Waving his ray gun in the direction of the upper deck, he led the guards back toward the ladder, his lumbering gait full of stomping frustration, “Don’t they know we have a contract to be in this sector?” He growled, “Why would they…” the rest was lost as he rose above the upper hatch.

  Invitation

  Bilderbus considered himself a fair man. He knew many called him cruel; some would say he was a ruthless man, but Mr. Bilderbus knew he really had others’ best interests at heart. And if his plans meant the demise of small children and lapdogs, well—the world was safer without so many people in it anyway. It was hard to control billions of people; Earth would be much better off, he was convinced, if there were only a few thousand or so on the planet…or just him.

  Seated in one of his many sumptuous offices, this one in the heart of Los Angeles on the coast of what was once the United States of America, he sighed and relaxed back against his leather easy chair. The rumbling massage balls slowly rolled out the kinks in his upper back while he contemplated his own ingenious. A small pile of grapes, exotic cheeses and mini scones sat to his left within striking distance of his chubby fingers and he occasionally selected one to taste. He liked food, did Bilderbus.

  The World Security forces had quelled much of the fighting that had erupted over the election some months ago, and he and his fellow Jesters had devised a neat trick to distract the masses from the colossal civil unrest. Bilderbus thumbed through the reports. Yes, the giveaways of free virtual reality games had indeed allayed public concern. Commerce was at an all-time low, and suicides tripled in the last four months, but ah, well. You couldn’t please everybody.

  He was just dozing off when a whoop sounded over the alarm klaxon above his view screen. Bilderbus started quite violently, sloshing red wine on his jiggling belly which he blotted at hastily with a silk napkin before pressing a fat forefinger to the communications toggle.

  “What is happening out there?” he demanded irritably. He thought he had rather earned his rest today, having just come through delivering a speech on the importance of the Jester educational programs. Hard work, speeches.

  “Unidentified craft,” came the tense reply of a defense analyst, “Bearing 30-degrees north. They’re closing in,” the sexless voice added emotionlessly.

  “Well, blow it up, or something,” he snapped crossly, “I’m trying to nap!”

  “How primi
tive,” an amused voice said from behind Mr. Bilderbus. He started again, this time sloshing a good portion of the red wine down his front. With a muttered curse, he turned to survey the room.

  Standing on the hearthrug was a werewolf. Or at least, that was Bilderbus’ first impression when he turned to look. The creature stood there looking very peculiar indeed—a long snout full of sharp teeth, dark beady eyes and two long ears pointing up completed the appearance of a man with the head of a jackal. Below his collar he was humanoid, although his skin all over was an odd steel gray. He wore a long white pleated skirt that left his torso bare and his strong muscular legs ended in hind paws. He bore a striking resemblance, in fact, to a statue Mr. Bilderbus had once seen in Egypt.

  He fumbled with the arm of his easy chair for the toggle that would alert Security, “Help!” he gulped, “There’s an Egyptian god in my bedroom!”

  That done, Mr. Bilderbus faced the werewolf squarely, feeling inadequately prepared for whatever attack might be forthcoming after his panicked call to Security. Yet no attack came and after a moment he relaxed enough to notice an air of regret in those canine features.

  In fact, the jackal-headed man standing on his hearthrug seemed so truly disappointed in him that Mr. Bilderbus slipped unconsciously into that frame of mind he always assumed when dealing with hostile press. The paparazzi in particular could be absolutely devastating on a hesitant response, so Mr. Bilderbus seized control of the conversation with a positively cheerful, “Ah! It is you!”

  The creature looked not unpleasantly surprised at having been recognized, which Bilderbus took as encouragement to go on, “My dear sir, please forgive me—I was a tad distracted when you arrived. Secretary must have forgotten your appointment,” he made a show of frowning in the direction of the door, simultaneously tapping a large calendar screen on his desk.

  “What was our appointment for…again? Here,” he added, gesturing, “Do sit! Can I get you a glass of sherry?”

  He followed up with a poured glass and a cheerful nod of encouragement to “drink up”, absently hoping this would occupy the fellow long enough for Security to save him.