Space Patrol!

by Sarah Nicole Nadler

  “I think I understand.” Lissa laid a reassuring hand on his sleeve. She shrugged casually and glanced away. “We came here with small hope. Hardly a spark of it, really. Could there be any organization in the universe powerful enough to oppose the wicked greed of the Galactic Trade Company, I asked myself? But of course there isn’t.” She smiled wistfully up Samison.

  “Oh, Universe Co. is powerful enough, to be sure!” Semo fell right into the trap Lissa was cunningly spinning for her. “We have millions of drones and could easily survey your planet, find out what it needs, depose that idiotic Jester convocation you have in lieu of a real planetary sovereignty!” Her voice was contemptuous, but her in-depth knowledge of Earth politics was interesting.

  “It is a great pity, then, that you have no interest in establishing your own headquarters there. Ah well.” Slowly, Lissa turned as though to leave. Ash and Shiro stepped with her, mimicking the motion.

  “What did you say?” The commander’s exclamation was almost comical. Lissa slowly pivoted on her heel back to face the two UC reps.

  “Oh, didn’t Mr. Piff tell you? We are offering to make Earth the first Milky Way planet in the Universe Corporation.” She spread her hands wide. “Since we’ve never been members of GTC, they can’t possibly dispute the idea, and unlike those space-station officials, there's something you can offer us.”

  “And what is that?” Samison was suspicious.

  “Freedom.”

  Semo stepped closer to Lissa as though to shield them from prying ears, or minds. “Let me get this straight, if we bring Earth government up to UC standards …”

  “Then you get Earth as a permanent base for Universe Co. in the Milky Way. So long as you establish a Space Patrol base on our single moon, to keep the fleas away, and give us full access to your drone fleet in order to help establish and maintain actual democracy on Earth. And no slavery.”

  “Those are your only terms?” Samison asked.

  Lissa smiled at the two of them. “Let’s sit down and talk somewhere, shall we? I think we will be able to come to terms that are mutually beneficial.”

  “Earthling, I think you might get yourself a deal!”

  There it was at last. The tiny spark of hope that Lissa had carried across tens of thousands of lightyears of space now ignited into a slow burn that could soon sweep across the face of Earth and bury OneWorld in a grave of ash and dust.

  Filbert's Last Day

  Dawn crept over the station. His ionized space rope swinging idly outside the atmosphere dome from its electromagnetic pulley, Filbert watched it drift in the slow arc caused by his last adjustment of the controls. The sun was lit and already glowing brightly as it made its way up to fill the sky above the station with vivid light.

  Normally, he tidied up immediately, reeling his rope in a perfect seaman’s coil to be ready for the following morning, but today, Filbert paused for a long moment, one hand on the controls, and gazed out at the fading stars beyond the artificial sun.

  The bottom of his favorite mug stared mournfully up at Filbert when he eyed the last swill of his coffee. This was it. His last day on the job. He gulped the dregs of the mug and grimaced at its bitterness. It tasted too much like the feeling in his gut. Where would he find employment now?

  For the last long hours of his shift, he sat in a blue fugue. As the final hour drew to a close, the image of his red-haired wife with her fiery eyes, swam before him for just a moment and he sighed. He would do anything to take care of her. Shane’s proud grin when he mentioned Ambassador Lissa of Earth came next to his thoughts. Would the girl help them? She had a whole planet on her mind, but perhaps she could be persuaded to put in a good word for them, if nothing else.

  Ginny’s sweet face came last to his thoughts, and he choked back a wave of bitter grief. His little girl, so bright and full of passion, with big dreams and all the intellect and inner strength that she would need to accomplish them. That was what he saw when he stared down into those big dark eyes. His little Ginger Jones. Behind that precious young face lay a realm of possibility. He could feel it in his bones—Ginny would mean something to this universe. So long as it gave her the chance. But he would make sure she had that chance, he vowed, determination overcoming his moment of private despair. For Ginny, for his beautiful wife, for the strong son he had raised—he had to do it.

  Shutting off the controls at last, Filbert donned his coat, hitched his belt up on his waist one last time, and tucked his mug underneath one arm. Even as several burly fellows came down the hall to begin the installation of the new solar system, Filbert Jones stood up from his desk and walked away without looking back.

  Sabotage!

  The hour had just reached midday and Ambassador Lissa was surrounded by her crew as they brainstormed ideas for a contract with Lt. Commander Semo. After their original talks the day before, she had had every confidence they would find it easy to work out a contract for Earth’s membership in Universe Co., but the details were proving more difficult to arrange than she had thought.

  “There are a lot of diverse races, tribes and such on Earth,” Lissa was saying. “It’s unfeasible to practice direct democracy amongst so many when they don’t all live similar lives. I mean,” she threw up her hands, “how is any official, no matter how fairly elected, going to come up with a law that will apply equally well to a cow-herding African tribesman and a shopkeeper on the American continent?”

  “It seems complicated,” Shane admitted. He had accompanied Lissa to the meeting in his role of cadet, which Lissa had come to realize was a sort of assistant position. Whether it was fetching things, acting as their guide or accessing the station computer library for them, he seemed perfectly content to lend his help to the negotiations. Just now he was sitting beside her, legs dangling over the wall they sat on, his hands idly fiddling with a fallen leaf as he listened.

  “But there are some things that seem to be universal. Laws against stealing for instance,” Lissa went on.

  “Unless you’re in Africa,” Ash interjected. “Our moral code is completely different. Theft is a sport—an honorable task set to the young men of their tribe to ensure they are crafty enough and skilled enough to survive. To their people, a man who had an opportunity to steal from his neighbor and didn’t is considered shameful.”

  Shane’s jaw dropped. “That’s mad!”

  “From our point of view, but it does exist,” Lissa said. If she was going to represent the peoples of Earth, she was going to have to represent all the people, not just the ones she agreed with.

  “I once read a philosopher on Earth from the latter half of the 21st century,” Shiro said. “He taught that transgressions against the moral codes of a group are what make a person unhappy and fail in life. He said it mattered little what the moral attitudes are.”

  “Some moral codes are just saner than others,” Lissa said, making a face. “I mean, let’s face it, all they really want is to survive. Africa can be a harsh place. Somehow, in the distant past, one of their ancestors must have thought stealing brought more survival than it didn’t. Customs are like that. They don’t always fit in the here and now, but at one point they existed for a reason.” She sighed again. “The problem becomes how to find points people can agree on.”

  “That is where our drones come in,” Samison interjected. He and Semo were present although these were hardly formal negotiations. The question of what to do after they deposed OneWorld had been raised, and Lissa felt woefully inadequate for the task of designing a government for all the peoples of Earth. She was fourteen, for stars’ sake!

  “It is a matter of finding out what your people need or want in a government,” Samison added and turned to Semo for support.

  “Yes, but more importantly, getting them all going in a similar direction.”

  Lissa turned to look at the female Kweep. “That is exactly it!”

  Semo nodded. “I have led many crews across the stars, big and small. Instead of concentrating on what
rules to lay out, try surveying your people to discover what purpose they have. What can Earth’s people produce that the rest of the universe will find valuable? What do they themselves consider valuable? This we must know—only then can we know what sort of government would best guide such a planet, and the rules that will best serve your people to accomplish the tasks they set for themselves. Purpose is far senior to rules and orders.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Lissa said, thinking hard. It was all coming together in her mind now. “If Space Patrol helps us to force the Jesters out of office and seize control of the planet, and Universe Co. simultaneously surveys for what role mankind wants to play in space—with some allowance perhaps for the current state of this galaxy, we can use the tabulations to come up with a purpose that everyone will agree with!”

  “By publishing the facts of what Rocksquatter and his Jesters were doing,” Samison suggested, “you can eliminate opposition to the change by positioning yourselves against the no-good slavers.”

  “Brilliant!” Ash said. “I can’t wait to get my hands on those scumbags!”

  “You must allow them to face justice,” Semo said and gave Ash a stern look.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Ash assured her. “I’m not nearly as bloody-minded as I used to be.”

  “You said it,” Lissa muttered. He gave her a friendly shove.

  Shane looked them over. “So that’s the plan, basically? We trump the Jesters, publicize their justice proceedings, survey for a new purpose, and get people to get on with it.”

  “Who is this ‘we??” Lissa asked. “Are you planning on coming along?” A part of her hoped he would say yes, and not just for the intelligent way he had helped them pick apart the problem.

  “Well actually, about that…” he hesitated. When the entire group turned to look at him, he heaved a huge sigh. “It’s my dad. He lost his job. Today is his last day.”

  Lissa rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s alright.” He shrugged. “I mean, we’ll be fine, but … only, my mom thought maybe Earth would be a good place for us to head to, what with the new station and all.” He glanced at the others. “You’ll need engineers and administrators. Earthlings who speak the most common language already would really be an advantage,” he urged Lissa, meeting her eyes with pleading in his own.

  “Won’t you miss the station?” she asked him.

  “I want to go into space, remember?”

  “I mean, if you want to come along …” She trailed off, uncertain what she would do with his parents if she did bring them to Earth.

  “Why don’t we meet your parents before the ambassador decides,” Semo said gently, coming to Lissa’s rescue. “I for one would be interested to know exactly what skills they both have that might be useful to the new moon base.”

  Shane looked immensely grateful. “I’ll bring my dad!” He leaped down from the wall and dashed away.

  ***

  Filbert was staring into the air above the Swiffy, not really listening to the thrilling spin-off being narrated across the space waves by a famous sexy actress, when Shane burst into the house.

  “Dad! Dad, I got you a job interview with the commander!”

  He stared blankly at his son. Shane was panting from the run, nearly two kilometers, and hunching over to clutch his knees as he fought to breathe. He looked incredulous when his dad did not immediately jump out of his squishy armchair and head for the door.

  “Come on, Dad,” he gasped. “You’ve got to … tell her … all the stuff you can do!” When Filbert still showed no sign of moving and seemed not to even understand his panting demands, Shane seized his father under the arm and hauled the much larger man nearly to his feet by brute strength alone—no mean feat.

  Filbert’s apathy finally lifted and he drew a shuddering breath. “She wants to interview me?” He sounded slightly bewildered.

  “Come on, Dad!” Shane was practically shouting now. “Quick, before they change their minds!”

  At last, Filbert came to. He straightened with a look of grim determination and reached for his tweed coat. Shrugging into it much more slowly than Shane would have liked, he nevertheless made for the door with enough bounce in his step to satisfy his urgent son, whose prompting had been born more out of concern at the dreary look in his father’s eye than any real worry that Lissa or the commander might have a change of heart.

  With Shane bouncing behind him to relieve pent-up energy, Filbert paused in the foyer to adjust his collar and don a soft brown derby; he lifted his gaze until his double chin disappeared in the mirror, opened the front door, and walked out into the sunshine.

  As though the appearance of the brilliant golden rays was a reminder of his loss too painful to bear, he momentarily halted and seemed of a mind to turn back. One pleading look on Shane’s face was enough for him to find his courage however, and Filbert took off at a steady trot toward the docks at his son’s direction.

  Filbert had but a moment to marvel at how much better he felt outdoors than he had at home listening to the Swiffy, before Shane interrupted his thoughts.

  “So, Dad, have you figured out what you’re going to say?”

  Filbert nearly stopped in his tracks! He had no idea.

  “I mean,” Shane began, seeing his hesitation, “you should probably tell her your skills, you know, and what type of job you want.”

  Filbert wondered gloomily whether he had any skills worth hiring him for. Shane seemed to sense this self-doubt for he went on, “Come on, Dad! You can do loads of stuff.”

  “Besides being a ‘pulley-operator,’ what good am I?” Filbert repeated Shane’s own words back at him.

  Shane flushed but persisted doggedly. “You’re a damn good pulley-operator, for one thing. You know all about solar schematics and probably a ton more about space engineering than any human on Earth.”

  This last was an incontrovertible argument, Filbert had to admit, and his chin came up, although he said only, “I know what I’ll say, don’t worry, son.” He clasped Shane on the shoulder with a gentle but firm grip.

  Shane flushed, partly from embarrassment at having scolded his father, partly in pleasure at the manly gesture of affection. They continued on.

  As they neared the docks the smell of brine and fish filled their noses in spite of the station’s air filtration system. The wind coming off the small bay was chilly and made Filbert glad he had donned his coat. They turned the last corner and there were Commander Semo, her aide, and the three humans perched on a wall before her making them nearly of a height with the giant Kweep.

  Filbert took a moment to assess the three humans as he and Shane approached. To the left crouched a black boy with short-cropped curly hair and a firm expression on his lips. He was covered in tiny scale armor of the sort Filbert recognized as state-of-the-art microbot weaponry. Incongruously, his only visible weapon in his hand was a spear. Something about his assessing gaze when he met Filbert’s eyes told the older man this boy was familiar enough with his weapon to use it if called for.

  On the right sat a boy cross-legged whose almond eyes were black as coal. He had the calmest face Filbert had ever seen. His black hair was a bit shaggy around the edges but the rest of his attire was immaculate—red silk trousers and tough-looking boots with a luxurious fur coat tossed over his shoulders. He also held a weapon—a curved sword with a wicked blade nearly half his height, and Filbert saw a ray pistol tucked into the boy’s waistband.

  Between the two bodyguards, for so Filbert immediately assumed they must be, sat an unassuming young girl with large green eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, from which a few strands had escaped, giving her a carefree appearance that accented her youthful face. Her large eyes were lovely but wore a piercing gaze when she spotted him that told Filbert she was not nearly as childlike as she first appeared. She was dressed in the height of space fashion—a black silk corset top over a white blouse with big sleeves that came to her
wrists with cuffs finished in gold trim. Her deep-blue ruffled skirt was cut high in front above her knees and scooped low to brush the tops of her ankles in back. Rather than the dainty leather boots that were so fashionable in the Milky Way, she wore a pair of pink ballet leg warmers scrunched atop gray Converse sneakers.

  These last, a nod to her Earth culture as well as her relative youth, warmed Filbert’s heart so much that by the time he reached Ambassador Lissa, his apprehension had all but disappeared and he was able to give her a friendly smile as he bowed deeply and said, “Ambassador, it is an honor to meet you.”

  Sitting as she was atop a wall over a meter above his head, she was unable to curtsy in return, but she nodded regally from her throne and said in a very cordial voice, “Cadet Shane told us about you, Mr. Jones. I understand you’re an engineer?”

  So Filbert told her all about his time in engineering school on Ratha III, how his master had sent him there as an investment intending to sell him to the highest bidder. He had met Mags on campus. They had been en route to the master’s warehouse after graduation, sharing what they well thought to be their last moments together, when Space Patrol had busted the slavering and rescued both of them.

  “Mags does cloud-wash on-station,” Filbert added after a short account of their schooling credentials. He gazed over Lissa’s head at the atmodome across the expanse of the bay, remembering the past. Outside it, laborers worked to install the new system that had put him out of work. He sighed. “She’s wasted on this small station. Her degree was in administrative management—meant to supervise hundreds if not thousands of housekeeping slaves in some big alien merchant’s palace. She would do very well for you as you start up your new base.”

  “You both sound like great assets to the Earth campaign,” Semo told him. “I will hire you myself, if the Ambassador has no objections?”

  Lissa opened her mouth to reply, but she never got a chance. There came a blinding light from behind her outside the atmodome, followed by a booming crash that rent the air.