by Bill Fawcett
“Sandwich time!”
Aliya shot a piercing gaze in Cole’s direction. Burt looked equally disgusted.
“Dr. Hudson,” the alien pointed to the chair along the left side wall, “if you will please be seated. And you, Ms. Rayne,” pointing to the one on the right, “will sit here.”
We all took our places. “The battle will commence in approximately twenty-seven minutes. Until then, take the time, please, to study your displays.”
I sat down in front of my monitor and examined it. This was like using my computer at home. I was able to view three dimensional schematics of the engines along with electrical and pneumatic diagrams. A lot of thought went into coming up with this program.
The silence was broken by a low pitched, pulsating horn signaling something important was about to happen. Small dots started to move slowly across the planetary display. “We’ve got six bogies headed our way!” Cole was really getting into this.
“How long until they are within range?”
“3.5 minutes, Captain,” Aliya answered. Her voice was stoic but her expression was very playful.
“Raise shields, Mr. Turner.” I had to admit, I was impressed. I looked over at my monitor. A pop-up appeared on the screen. Pressurization had dropped but was still at 97%. This was just like playing Sub Commander. I relayed the info to Burt.
“Thanks. Got it.”
The ships on the planetary display grew larger with every second. “One minute, Captain.” I wondered if Aliya remembered this was just a game. “Ninety seconds ... eighty ... seventy ...” She continued counting down. “ ... ten seconds ... five seconds—”
“Whoo-hoo! Here we go!” Cole began laying on rapid fire that would easily have won him top score in Voo Dong. “Eat shit and die you sorry son of a bitch.” There was a big CGI explosion, as two of the ships disintegrated. “Yeah, baby! Whatya think of that?”
“Oh my God, it’s just a game.” I felt like Jane Goodall in a National Geographic special. More expletives poured from the mouth of our resident chimpanzee. “How are you even managing to fire that thing without an opposable thumb?”
“Skill, baby, pure-d-bonafide, grade-A skill.” He shot at another one. The damage to the other ships did seem to be pretty bad. “Check it out, man; they’re gettin’ their asses kicked.” Then he looked annoyed. “Spoke too soon. Our shields just went down to 50%.”
“Kylie, what can you do to fix the problem?” Burt looked proud of himself. He was in his element.
The simulator gave a violent shudder. A chorus of “cools” and “wows” started to echo through the room, but were stopped short. The force had shattered one of the bulkhead panels and sent it flying across the room into pieces.
“Oh, God, oh God, man, What the fu—” One of the pieces made contact with Cole’s right arm and the other embedded itself into his chest.
“Oh, God, please help me.” Cole crumpled over in the chair and then hit the floor. No sooner had he made contact with the hard metal when Regi bounded out of his chair and raced over to examine the injured crewman.
“Don’t worry, I’m an EMT.”
But Burt saw the concern in Regi’s face and spun around to face the alien.
“What in God’s name have you gotten us into? This is no game. This is really happening.”
The alien looked very nervous. “But he will be okay.”
“Okay? Okay? I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, man, but I’ve got a big hunk of spaceship sticking out of my chest.”
“Pipe down, Cole.” Burt turned back to the alien. “That’s just it, he shouldn’t even be in this mess, and neither should the rest of us.”
“You tell him, man,” Cole whined in agreement.
“One more word from you and I’ll have Regi sedate you the old-fashioned way.”
Regi packed the wound with pieces of Cole’s mangled shirt. “This is just a quick fix, but this man needs a doctor.”
“I hate to break up the party, but we’ve got trouble.” I noticed the other four ships circling back like sharks going in for the kill. Aliya grabbed the firing mechanism from Cole’s control panel. She made ready to shoot the first thing that came into her view. Burt sprinted up to the platform where the alien was standing. “I want an explanation, now.”
“Please, there is no time. If the enemy gets through, he will destroy your planet.”
Burt turned in the direction of the helm. “Aliya, how confident are you about firing those things?”
“No problem.”
“Good, don’t let any get through.” He turned to face me. “Kylie, can you do anything about those shields?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to see if I can steal power from somewhere else.” After all, it worked in Star Trek.
“Do whatever it takes.” He continued the interrogation of the alien. “How much power do we need in the shields to take these guys on?”
“At least 70%.”
“Did you hear that, Kylie? We need at least 70% shield capability.”
“Working on it ... Captain.” I had always wanted to say that.
Another ship exploded on the display. Without batting an eye Aliya announced, “Only three more left, Captain.”
The alien seemed very relieved. “We have a few minutes before their return.”
“Good, start talking.”
I listened while scrolling through different screens. I pulled up the statistics and viewed them. I was able to drag and drop from one stat to the other. I didn’t think something so simple would even work. Eventually I was able to borrow enough power from the ship’s other systems and transfer it to the shields and get the shields back up to 73%.
“Shields are at 73%.”
“Good work, Kylie.”
The alien continued his explanation of his planet’s history and explained that they had been at war for many years. “Our technology far surpassed that of the enemy, but their tactics were much more brutal. One of our bases was infiltrated and the enemy got away with vital equipment. Our scientists had just developed the means for achieving deep space travel. We soon learned that the enemy would use this technology in order to conquer other planets.
“Our intelligence reports indicated that they were bound for a planet in a nearby solar system, the one you call Planet Earth. The journey would take 125 of your earth years, and none involved in the expedition would be able to return. I, along with four other comrades, volunteered to go. When the ship reached its destination, I found that I was alone. All of the stasis chambers, with the exception of my own, had malfunctioned. Without a crew, I knew I could not defeat the enemy. I decided to take drastic measures. I converted the spaceship by using technology that I borrowed from your planet.”
“You mean stole ...”
The alien ignored Cole’s snipey comment. “Although there were more skilled people on earth which could have crewed the ship, there were none I could approach. Only at this convention would I be able to mix among your people with relative ease.”
Aliya spun around in her chair, “Captain, the ships are returning.”
“Everyone get ready.” For Burt, that meant battlestations.
Regi sat Cole up in his chair and strapped him in. He checked the bandages once again before returning to his seat. Aliya fired off more rounds at the enemy ships. I turned back to my monitor. The ship shuddered a few times, but didn’t seem to be in any immediate distress. I kept watch over the vital statistics. Another thud. Despite all the excitement, I was fighting hard to stifle a yawn. My ears began to ache and I couldn’t seem to get them to pop.
“Oh shit!” How could I be so stupid?
“What’s going on over there?” Burt diverted his attention from the display.
I pulled up another screen on the monitor. “We’re losing pressure—fast.” I jumped out of the chair and m
oved toward the alien. “Where are all the tools?”
“There.” He pointed to a panel near the floor and to the right of the engineer station. Fortunately, he had the forethought when he remodeled to “borrow” a toolbox. I took out the biggest, flathead screwdriver I could find and began to rapidly remove panels. I started near the one which had blown off earlier. I listened carefully for the unmistakable hissing sound. One thing I learned from working on C-130’s was how to find a leak. The ship jolted.
Burt’s voice rang with excitement, “All right! Two at a time. Now you’re talking.”
I didn’t have time to look up, but it was clear that Aliya had just demolished two of the enemy ships. I continued my search. After about the fifth panel, I spotted the culprit. The blast responsible for the injury to Cole had also managed to damage one of the ducts. Warm air escaped out the sides.
I darted over to my monitor and pulled up the engine diagram. I overlaid the pneumatics diagram. The air going to the duct in question was coming off of the 23rd stage of engine compression. That is, if I was even reading this thing correctly. I wondered why the air wasn’t hotter. I went back to the screen with the pressurization statistics. “Hey, Regi, come here.”
Regi rushed over to assist. “What can I do?”
I pointed to the monitor. “Tell me when these numbers go up.” I went back over to the panel and tugged at the two sides of the duct until the ends met.
Regi called over to me, “Kylie, your numbers just shot up from 50 to 73.”
I released the two sides of the duct. Air blew around inside the panel with even more force.
“Captain, the shields have just gone down to 39%.” Aliya didn’t miss a beat.
It was just as I thought. “I think there is a correlation between the pressurization and the shields.” It didn’t make sense, but it was the only explanation.
“Can you fix it?” Burt’s concern was mounting.
“Sure, if I can repair this duct the shields should come back up.” I wish I was as confident as I sounded.
“Hey, that thing is coming back for us.” Cole’s voice had lost its cocky edge.
I looked around for something to use for a patch job.
“Kylie ...” The ship was getting closer.
If only I had a roll of duct tape.
“Kylie, I don’t think they’re going to wait.”
Aliya glanced at Burt. “They’ll be in range of our shields in less than a minute.”
I opened the panel below and felt the duct. No air flow was going through it. I addressed the alien. “What does this duct go to?”
“It goes to what you would call the safety valve.”
“Great, let’s hope we don’t need it.” I took a blade from the toolbox and cut off a piece of the duct. I slipped both sides of the broken duct into it. Oh God, Please make this work. I slipped the piece down to bridge the gap between the ducts and secured it with pieces of Cole’s shirt.
“Thirty seconds, Captain.”
“Well, Aliya, let’s hope you’re a better shot than he is.”
“Wait. Captain, the shields are coming back up.”
“You did it, Kylie. Great job.”
The ship came in for a quick fly-by and fired. There was a violent jerk. My head banged against the bulkhead.
“Everyone OK?” Burt gave a concerned glance over in my direction.
“I’m fine.” Just love being whacked in the head.
“Here he comes again, man.” Even injured Cole just couldn’t help playing back seat shooter. The enemy ship grew larger and larger in the display.
“Aliya, why aren’t you firing? Aliya?” Burt jumped from his chair, gripping the console. “Aliya!”
“Oh, shit, what are you doing?” Just as Cole grabbed for the firing mechanism, Aliya fired. The display was filled with a firework display as the ship exploded.
“Whoo-hoo!”
“Way to go!”
“Yeehaw!”
We all leapt out of our chairs, jumped up and down, and hugged each other. I even gave Cole a hug. “You did a great job.”
I prepared myself for the smartass comeback, but all I got was a humble, “Thanks.”
Burt addressed us all. “Congratulations, we did it.”
There was a sound from the platform like someone clearing their throat. In all the excitement, we had forgotten about the alien. “You have not done it. This is not the end. It is only the beginning. They will send more, many more.”
Burt’s excitement turned to concern, “How long do we have?”
“Five years, maybe ten at most. You must prepare your planet.”
Fear gripped my heart. “But no one will believe us.”
The alien extended his arm and raised three fingers. The tentacles on his head began to undulate, “They might not believe you, but they’ll believe me.”
(with apologies to just about everybody)
I FOUND her at a bookseller’s, near Artist’s Alley. I remember when I first met her, last year. We met at the Drum Circle.
She was just seventeen, you know what I mean. And the way she looked was way beyond compare.1
In fact, she was dressed in a huge lizard outfit with the letters “K-A-M-I-L-E-O-N” stitched across it and she was holding a Tony Soprano doll with a stake in its heart under her arm. The stake was decorated with four little oblong triangles. It took me a moment to realize that the four little triangles were sails. And when I got that, I got the whole thing and did what any proper punster would do: I groaned in punishment.2
Me? I was carrying a Terry Pratchett book and occasionally throwing it in front of my feet and tripping over it.
“That’s got to be Pratchett’s The Light Fantastic,” she said as she watched me. And that’s when I knew: even if she was the only one who could see me, I had found my perfect one.
Well, the decision was easy. I mean, how could I dance with another, when I saw her standing there?3
And now, years later, with the spell still not broken, she was pawing through stacks of used books when I came up behind her. She held a romance novel in her hand and was reading the back cover.
I reached around and grabbed it from her, shaking my head. “Repent!”
I took a quick glance at the book, threw it back on the stacks, tapping its spine at the imprint. “Harlequin!”
She made a face at me, then turned back to the stacks. I glanced at my watch, and shoved it in her line of sight. We were running late for our shift.
“Tick-tock4!” I said as I waggled the watch in front of her nose. She ignored me, pushing my hand away as she spotted an old magazine and grabbed it.
“It’s Astounding,” she exclaimed.
“Time is fleeting,” I reminded her.
She shook her head at me just as we heard a commotion from Artist’s Alley.
“Madness takes its toll,” I murmured. I cupped my ear, trying to decipher the sounds over all the gabble. “But listen, closely.”
“Not for very much longer,” she told me with a sigh.
“I’ve got to keep control5,” I said, moving closer to the noise. It was, after all, our job as undercover security and how we paid our way at the con.
As often happens, it was a new fan arguing with an old star over the price of an autograph.
“Time for the stars6,” I sighed.
My partner shook her head, saying mournfully, “Star Tracks! The wrath of con7.” She pursed her lips, as she added disdainfully, “Star wars.”
Fortunately, the fan calmed down and got his autograph. Nearby I noticed one of the new, up-and-coming younger stars happily dashing off a signature for a toddler, glancing with apprehension at the older actor. I nudged my partner, pointing. “A new hope8.”
The toddler’s father was standing behind her, grumpy. On his shoulde
r was a smaller girl, dressed in a princess outfit. I smiled, pointing her out to my partner, “Sleeping beauty!9”
She smiled and nodded back, saying in agreement, “A little princess.10”
I searched around for the children’s mother and found her seated against a column, with a bunch of fabric draped around her and a needle in her hand. I patted her partner on the shoulder and pointed out, “Lie low, and stitch.11!”
She scanned past and spotted a neat outfit: obviously a believer in furry fandom. The owner was in a very short skirt, so my partner nodded in her direction, indicating the skirt, “Mini!”
I glanced disapprovingly at the girl’s costume: it was not to my tastes and I said so, disapprovingly, “Mouse.”
Suddenly, around us, the lights flickered. This was the sort of thing we were self-assigned to handle, so I looked around the room, scanning. There was a maintenance man working in a corner. I jerked my head toward him, catching my partner’s attention, suggesting him as the cause. “Lord of Light12?”
She shook her head, having spotted someone attempting to plug in another power strip to the overloaded wall and gestured toward him. “The lightning thief.13”
I gave her a disbelieving look, pointing up at the lights, my mouth working in a silent, “How?”
My partner grinned and responded in her best Holmesian manner, “Electrodirection, my dear Sam.”
When she’d first found out my name, she used a lot of fantastical references; it took me a long time to break her of the hobbit.14
Her explanation didn’t leave me convinced. “Let’s look around some more.”
We started back towards Gaming. My partner paused as she noted a seller with old Mattel dolls. She was always looking for a partner for her other dolls. She was particularly impressed with the Wizard of Oz set and held up the Ken doll dressed as the Cowardly Lion for my approval.
“Dandy lion,” I told her sarcastically.
She pouted at me. “Whine!15”
“Oh, buy one Ken!” I relented. She glared at me, so I started angrily, “Oh be—16”