by James Peters
“Ah, Maven. That’s it. You hot to trot with her. Let me tell you somethin’ mon, she’s not what you think she is.” Nicholai’s mouth curved into a smile.
“What do you know?!” I said, my voice unintentionally loud. “I know she’s got her own agenda, and I think that her tough girl act is just that, an act. I think she has quite a few surprises up her sleeve.”
“At least one. You know she’s a Queen, don’t you mon?” Nicholai said, grinning. “Or maybe a princess? That’s what they call the young ones, right?”
“A princess? Are you insane or just stoned?”
“Probably fuckin’ both mon, but I know one when I see one.”
“So, you have no proof. You just know one when you see one? You spend your day getting high with a monkey. Who knows what’s going on in your mind? You’ve lost more brain cells than…” A good analogy slipped my mind, so I just went on. “Than somebody that’s lost a bloody large number of brain cells! You think she’s royalty. That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”
“Look at ‘er hands.”
“I’ve looked at her hands. They aren’t dainty ‘princessy’ hands, they are strong, about as big as my own. Hell, she’s strong enough to pick me up and carry me. Does that sound like a princess to you?”
“More like a Queen,” Nicholai said.
“I’m sure that’s part of the Queen-academy: No crown until you carry a person out of a gas-filled room while dressed as a dominatrix. This is the stupidest conversation I’ve ever had. Maybe I should talk to Marco. He’s probably got a more intelligent view.”
I looked at Marco, he gestured a crown on his head, then made a stiff wave with one hand.
I squinted my eyes at Marco. “Fine. Think what you want, idiots. That Queen is trying to crack Caligula’s code so we can find a place to go, outside of the Empire. I’m sure that’s part of royal training too. System hacking? Regality one o’ one, I’m sure.”
Nicholai shook his head. “You not hearing what we be sayin’.”
“Think what you want; you two can worship her. I’m making some points in that department anyway.” I turned and walked off to hear snickering behind me. Idiots. I don’t know which one is the bigger ape. The first girl with any class and they assume she’s royalty. But what’s her angle? Nothing’s more attractive than an intriguing woman!
***
I decided to take a shower. Sometimes, thinking about nothing with hot water running over your body is great therapy. I sighed loudly as the tension eased from my shoulders. For the moment, the water felt good and I relaxed. I closed my eyes and thought about Maven. Wouldn’t it be great if she joined me in here? The thought of her with me and the warm water aroused me, but she’d never join me. There’s not enough room for two in the tiny shower.
Suddenly, the bathroom door opened to a crazed monkey. Marco flew into the bathroom, bouncing off the walls, and leaped into my arms. He flipped over, upside down, and pointed to his ass, screaming and waving. Ants. He had them all over his backside and, by his reaction, they belonged to the biting variety. I struggled to push him away but he wrapped his legs around my neck. I stood there, naked, covered with soap and water, staring into a monkey’s sphincter when he released a terrible howl as if in terrible pain. In his panic, Marco thrashed and drove his face into my scrotum biting me hard.
I screamed, flaying around, trying to get him away from me, and fell onto the floor. We wrestled and fought, I got a foot on his face, pushing him away. I grabbed at my bleeding manhood knowing that things could never get any worse than at this particular moment.
Just then things got worse. Much worse. The bathroom door had swung wide open and I had an audience.
“Oh my gods!” Maven said, staring at us. “That is disgusting! With a monkey!”
Nicholai also stood there, his eyes bugging out, and his jaw dropping open, looking exactly like you’d expect a stoned man staring at a pervert molesting a chimpanzee to look. “Poor monkey-mon. What did he do to you?”
I tried to say, ‘It’s not like this! I didn’t do anything!’, but it sounded like a high pitched ‘Ahhhh!’ that continued until I couldn’t breathe. Then I broke down into blubbering sobs, with snuffling and moaning thrown in.
“Just stay away from me!” Maven said. “You’re sick, I never want to talk to you again. Oh, by the way, I cracked the code. I found a barbarian world within range. We’ll dump you there, you monkey-molesting pervert!”
Chapter 3
Great Expectations
Personal Auto-journal entry for Nicholai Anterwon; 13 Juanes, 4th cycle of Narroom, 11246 G.E.S.
“Dear Diary. Today, I got stoned with a monkey! Then a pervert tried to fuck him! BEST, DAY, EVER!!!”
Chapter 4
Terror Firma
I bandaged myself as best as I could and donned the guard’s uniform. Every step grew more painful than the last. Occasionally, blood ran down my leg and I’d stiffen as I walked. Maven made an announcement over the shuttle’s intercom. “Prepare for Chronos jump in twenty seconds. Barbarian world, here we come.”
I hunted for a place to hide. I would not allow Marco to puke on me this time. I ran to a small closet, opened the door, and ducked inside. The wave of nausea from the jump hit me as I looked up to see a chimpanzee leaning over the top shelf, emptying the contents of his simian stomach over my head. I had been through so many insults and abuses; I simply wiped the barf off of me and made my way to the shower to spray the rest off. This is what I had become: a sad, puked-on exile from the Empire with a bleeding scrotum that now itched and ached. Destined to be abandoned in a barbarian world, if Nicholai and Maven didn’t decide to space me beforehand.
I noticed that something seemed strange about the shuttle. We seemed to be accelerating in the wrong direction. I made my way to the cockpit, stumbling in the ‘off’ gravity and walking a painful gait.
Once in the cockpit, I stared through the windshield. “That’s a planet. We’re heading right toward it!” I had a way of stating the clearly obvious.
“Shut up!” Maven said, at a volume that echoed in the cockpit. “We emerged too close to the planet. Our retros aren’t strong enough to keep us from burning in.” She wrestled the controls and wiped sweat from her brow. “I’ve got to get the nose up and do a full burn. It might be enough to keep us from disintegrating in the atmosphere. It’s all I’ve got.”
We entered the stratosphere, and the shuttle creaked and groaned as if in agony. The windows glowed a bright orange-yellow, I could feel the temperature rising, the smell of carbon and ozone filled the air.
“Crap!” Maven said. “I can’t budge her. We’re gonna’ burn in.”
“Can’t you burn and just pull up?!” I said, yelling over the ever-increasing racket.
Maven glared at me. Her speech became desperate, her hands motioned her words. “Full burn without pulling up first, we just create a bigger crater. If I can’t pull the nose up first, there’s no recovery.”
“There’s got to be a way.”
Maven’s eyes turned upward. “There’s nothing we can do. The maneuvering retros aren’t strong enough.”
“Not even a crazy solution?” I said.
“Hell, you want crazy? We could manually detonate the top aft pressure tank. That might push our tail down enough to point us in a reasonable direction if it didn’t blow us apart. It would have to be done outside the tank. You could get to it from the aft access port and you’d need a timed detonator.” She reached into the top of her outfit over her left breast and pulled out a flat disk, offering it to me. “Here, take this.” She stopped and looked at the disk. “No, wait, that’s too much; it would destroy us.” She reached into the other side of her top, and she pulled a smaller disk out. “Use this one, it’s just what you need. Run to the aft access panel, open the ceiling panel, pull yourself up and find the red pressure tank. Slap this to the outside, spin the knob to thirty, press this button. Run like hell back up here and strap in.”
“Aft pressure tank, ceiling panel, outside of the red tank, rotate to thirty, press button. Go now!”
The detonator had a pin attached to its back that poked me in the palm of my hand when I grabbed it. Ignoring the pain, I ran toward the rear of the shuttle. As I passed the blanket fort, Marco jumped on my back but I flung him off with a quick spin. I did not have time for his simian antics. I found the ceiling access panel, spun two quick release handles and yanked the cover off. I pulled myself in and followed the pressure lines to the main tank, to find it larger than I expected, marked ‘Warning - Extremely High Pressure!’ and painted bright red with a white skull and crossbones to add seriousness. I slapped the disk on it, magnetically sticking it in place, and I spun the dial to thirty, pressing the button. But as soon as I pressed it, the disk flashed ten, then nine, then eight. I fled in a panic, wriggling out of the access chute, then running as fast as I could. Marco jumped on my back again, I tried to spin him off, but he had a death grip on me this time. I fell to the floor.
The detonator blew, and the shuttle jerked violently driving the tail down and nose up. I felt the thrusters fire at full power. I became weightless for a moment, slammed into the ceiling, then I struck the back wall, gasping for air as the g-force slammed me hard against the bulkhead. I fought to remain conscious. All the while, Marco wrestled with me, trying to climb on my head.
Blood trickled down my forehead. Who it came from, I couldn’t be certain. I struggled to my hands and knees and crawled back toward the cockpit. Marco raced ahead of me and jumped into a seat, strapping himself in. With great relief, I saw the nice, safe, vacuum of black space through the windshield. Maven worked controls furiously, Nicholai tightened his restraints, looking way too calm for the situation.
“I thought I told you to strap in!” Maven said.
“I tried.”
“Quit screwing around. We’re losing atmosphere now. I’m setting a standard re-entry trajectory.”
Before I could enter the cockpit, the door slammed closed, locking me outside. “What the hell?” I said, banging on the door.
Maven spoke over the intercom. “Automatic safety doors. When we lose atmosphere, the cockpit seals itself to protect the crew.”
“Open the damn door!” I said. A rush of air poured toward the back of the ship.
“No can do,” Maven said. “I can’t override the safety controls. If I were you, I’d put on the rest of that guard’s uniform you’re so fond of wearing. It’s auto-pressurized.”
I made it to my feet and held onto a grab rail. My mind raced for where the helmet and gloves had been left.
Wait, the gloves were right here in the pockets, but the helmet? I hadn’t seen it in some time. I’m sure I hyperventilated trying to get as much oxygen as I could in my system as I made my way through the ship. The blanket fort! Marco and Nicholai had it in their fort and used it for god-knows-what.
The ship rocked and rattled as retro jets fired in rapid succession. I progressed as best I could; sometimes hand-over-hand, occasionally falling forward in great strides, and often being driven backward by ship movement. But eventually, I made it to the blanket-fort and found the helmet. I poured a thick, rancid liquid from the helmet, gasped for air as the pressure dropped fast. My lungs expanded painfully and I coughed out the last of my air. I had no choice, pulled the helmet on, and twisted it in place. The overwhelming scent of monkey urine burned my eyes with ammonia and made me gag. The suit auto-pressurized and I coughed as the disgusting air filled my lungs. Lasers fed information to my retinas, from high-resolution cameras in the front and back of the helmet, as well as from the gloves’ fingertips. I had to concentrate to look past all the views and competing images. Finally, I managed to shut down most cameras by focusing on closing icons.
“Why aren’t you answering me?” Maven said, over the helmet’s speaker.
“I’m here. Grossed out, but here.” I said.
“I can’t imagine anything grossing you out.” Maven’s voice cracked a little. “Hold on to something. I’m taking the ship back into the atmosphere. It’s about to get rough.”
“It’s about to get rough?!” I said sarcastically.
“I don’t have time for your whining. I’ve got a damaged shuttle to land and I doubt this planet has auto landing capabilities. If this were a civilized world, I‘d just hand the controls over to the space traffic computer.”
“You do know how to land this thing without the auto-lander, don’t you?” I said, not wanting to know the answer.
“I’ve done it several times.” Much quieter, she added, “In simulators.”
“In simulators?”
“I don’t have time for this. Maven, out.”
I’ll admit, I’ve never been fond of the landing cycle. Space travel is pretty much non-eventful in a big, commercial spaceship, but landings are always intense. Spaceships are made for the peaceful vacuum of space, not for being tossed around in a volatile and non-predictable atmosphere, trying to be smashed by gravity. There I stood, in a stinking guard’s suit, in a depressurized shuttlecraft that needed to be manually landed by a person I don’t really know is capable. My hands shook, my eyes twitched and I found myself hyperventilating. I desperately wanted to run somewhere, but where?
When a traumatic event happens, one’s mind goes into ultra-awareness mode. I have intense memories of what happened in a matter of a few seconds as if they took hours. A foreboding crack that I more felt than heard inside the pressurized suit shook me to the bone, carrying a meaning that something terrible has just happened. I snapped my head around to see the top hatch of the shuttle break free of the ship and spinning wildly away from the shuttle. A huge hole now in the top of the shuttle craft, the remaining air escaping through it. I became weightless as the ship lurched and the last of the air pushed me toward the opening. I grabbed for a hand-hold with my fingertips; survival depending upon my grip. I gasped as I watched my gloved fingers slip from the handle. I thrashed at everything but found nothing to grab. I watched the shuttle slowly fall away from me, and I screamed until out of breath, only to gulp down just enough air to scream a second time. My heart thumped so hard that my ears pulsed and my arms twitched. Completely helpless, falling to my death in the upper atmosphere of a foreign world. The guard’s suit lit up with alarms as the suit glowed from the air friction. Automatic temperature adjusters kicked in. Instead of being cooked to death, I simmered in a stew of my own sweat.
I flailed for a while, but soon realized that I had plenty of time to think. The sky’s color lightened and air buffeted me around as I fell. At least I’m in an atmosphere. This planet looked like any of the dozens of terra-formed worlds, nondescript masses of blue and green. I raced toward the surface at whatever the terminal velocity of me in this suit happened to be. I drew a deep breath and enjoyed a moment of calm; an acceptance that I would smash into the ground and hopefully die instantly. Really, at this point, I didn’t have a lot of reasons to live. Things had been catastrophic for me; nobody here knew or cared about me. It is probably for the better in the long run. As the ground neared enough to make out trees and land features, a singular thought crossed my mind. Do I crap myself before or after I hit the ground? And at that moment, I actually snickered at myself. I closed my eyes and tensed up.
A force suddenly drove air from my lungs but didn’t hurt like I expected crushed bones to feel. I eased one eye open to find that I couldn’t see, but made out a pinpoint of light. I looked toward the light and saw motion. I’m still falling I haven’t hit yet. I couldn’t move a muscle or breathe. For some reason, my arms and legs spread out as far outward as they would go.
My body shook at an impact and sudden reversal of direction. I became momentarily weightless until the tug of gravity pulled me again. Another impact, a reversal of direction, a violent spin, each time shorter than the last. After the third time, my wits came back to me. I’m bouncing.
The guard’s suit had a
n auto-deploying air-bag system, just like in the adventure programs where space marines dive from the upper atmosphere, arms out like they are soaring without a care in the Empire. Just before they hit the ground, their suits pressurize into a giant ball and they bounce a dozen times or so. When they stop, they jump up, rail-gun in hand, to take out the bad guys. I did just that, except for the rail gun and heroically taking out the bad guy thing. I laid there until the suit auto-deflated and ended up face down in a boggy pile of muck.
Alone on a barbarian world. I did not know if the shuttle landed or if it burnt up on entry. I didn’t know where to go, what to do, or what my next move should be. But I knew two things: I survived the fall, and I had crapped my pants.
Chapter 5
Long Live the Front
Encrypted paired quantum message transcript, intercepted and decryption by Decrypton™ Ultracomputer
ISLF Field Agent Report
Sirs:
An unexpected opportunity presented itself. After months of tracking the Emperor, I saw a chance to help our cause through alternative measures. Escaped on Emperor's shuttle with the idiot. Have arrived at barbarian world called "Earth". Natives have no knowledge of Empire or my capabilities. With a superior technology and mind, recruiting should be easy. This could be the catalyst to our freedom. Will provide updates as appropriate. Long live the Front!
- Agent M.
Chapter 6
Cyst, Boom, Bah
Wild nature surrounded me in the darkness; a terrifying combination for a citizen of the Empire. Silent at first, as if my arrival had hushed whatever vicious and ferocious carnivores surely hiding behind every tree, rock, or pile of dirt. My eyes darted around as noises poured out from the distance. I saw lights moving, some kind of civilization or transportation. Civilization meant safety from predators, so I made my way toward the lights. My nether regions seemed to be on fire, so I took my time, but soon enough made it to a primitive road of sorts. I looked both ways, neither seemed any better than the other. But roads lead to and from somewhere, so I picked a direction and started walking.