Max and the Snoodlecock

by Zachry Wheeler

  Frank sighed. “Target acquired. Shall I engage?”

  Fio re-stroked his plump chin. “Hmm ... no, too risky. The Omen is a seasoned fighter pilot and would likely crush your feeble attempt.”

  Frank rolled all eight eyes. “Okay, so now what?”

  Fio paused for thought. “I see you have freed yourself of your suit.”

  “A necessary action. It was hot and itchy.”

  “See?” Jerry said from a distance.

  “Shut up, Jerry!” Fio said, pointing another rigid finger off-hologram.

  “Have you ever worn one of those sweaty trash bags? I couldn’t feel my giblets after 20 ticks. It’s a dumb, moronic, stupidly stupid design.”

  “You’re stupid,” Fio said in a passive-aggressive tone.

  Jerry stood from his chair, prompting Fio to stand from his. The pair barked insults at each other in a whirlwind of gibberish. Frank grabbed his romance novel and resumed where he had left off. Fio stomped away from the hologram visual, leaving a swiveling chair in his wake. After a bout of off-hologram drama, Fio returned to his seat, gasping and panting with his hood tossed back. Frank glanced up from his book as Fio blotted his scalp, took a needed breath, and tried to rekindle any semblance of order.

  “Anyhoo,” Fio said, tossing Jerry a sour glance. “Follow the target. Wait for an appropriate time to intercept on the surface of Phil’s Place.”

  Frank slapped his book shut. “Oh c’mon! You’re going to make me go down there and deal with that loony?”

  Fio waved off the concern. “Stop being so dramatic. Phil is harmless.”

  Frank narrowed four of his eyes. “Harmless? If memory serves, Gorp went through two years of intense therapy after a scouting visit.”

  Fio glanced over to a shaking Gorp, who held up three fingers.

  “You’ll be fine,” Fio said, then killed the transmission.

  Frank applied three facepalms and barked an array of unsavory insults. He plunked a claw onto the console and mumble-pouted while prepping the ship for pursuit.

  * * *

  Inside the tiny freighter, Max stared at his own reflection with slack-jawed fascination. There it was, plain as day, his own brain floating behind his eyeballs. He had awoken with transparent skin and bones, a tweak abundantly apparent even before opening his eyelids. Twisting his head from side to side, he poked at his noggin like a jellyfish on the beach. Everything felt normal. Skin was smooth, bones were hard, tongue was dry from prolonged jaw dangling. All muscles and organs were appropriate colors, just faded to the point of transparency.

  Ross, also transparent, stared at Max from the bed. His ears remained cocked backwards in concern, not that anyone could tell. His innards churned in silence like a well-oiled machine, which, in reality, he was. Tiny gears and pistons shifted with every motion, creating the wet dream of any steampunk fanatic. A pair of mechanical eyeballs glanced around the room. He sighed, shook his head, and returned his gaze to Max.

  “You’ve been staring at yourself for an uncomfortably long time now. What’s wrong?”

  Max swayed his hands in front of the mirror, creating a ripple effect. “Dude, I look like a study doll for a science classroom.”

  Ross lifted an invisible eyebrow.

  Max pressed a palm to his abdomen and chuckled like an idiot as his organs shifted from side to side. “It’s like having a cheat sheet for med school.”

  Everything non-biological (and non-cyborg) remained solid and opaque. The walls remained dull and gray. The control panels remained smooth and black. White sheets and a brown blanket rested atop a tarnished bed frame. The solid gray door slid open, prompting Max to yelp and fumble for clothes. He tapped the wall panel for the laundry drawer, which shot out with nothing inside. A swift hand yanked a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around his waist.

  “What’s the matter?” Perra said from the doorway. She stood with her arms crossed, also transparent, also naked. Her muscles and organs twisted over each other in peculiar arrangements. A pair of purple hearts beat at her side like elevated kidneys. Her stomach, liver, and various intestines filled the central cavity. A spleen-like organ pulsated below the mass, causing Max to question his biological acumen.

  Max looked her up and down, then back to the drawer, then back to Perra. “What happened to my clothes?”

  “Your what?”

  “My, um ...” Max turned to Ross, who had exited the conversation in favor of grooming his transparent thigh. Returning his attention to Perra, his teenage brain blurted out the most pressing observation. “You’re naked.”

  Perra glanced down at her chest. “Yeah, so?”

  Max had always dreamed of an attractive naked woman walking into his bedroom on purpose, but the nature of the situation had sucked all sexual tension out of the air. There they were, exposed breasts filled with fatty tissue and blood vessels, and yet, any sense of arousal seemed as distant as the next star system. An odd sense of liberation washed over him. He took a deep breath, dropped the sheet, and stood proud in his glassy birthday suit.

  “Now you’re naked,” Ross said, feeling the need to prod the predicament.

  Max’s anxieties flooded back, like a rampaging army of naked-in-school nightmares. He cupped his crotch, not that it mattered, and fumbled for the sheet.

  Perra rolled her eyes. “Anyway, jump is complete, one more to Phil’s Place. We’ll execute after cooldown, no more than a c-mark or two. In the meantime, there’s a stunning stellar nursery just outside, thought you would like to take a gander.”

  “Thanks,” Max said, still clinging to the sheet around his waist. “Although, I’m pretty sure I’ll need a nap before we get to Phil’s Place.”

  “Why?”

  Max glanced back and forth between pellucid Perra and steampunk Ross. “No reason.”

  “Suit yourself,” Perra said, then turned to leave.

  Max eyed her pristine butt as she exited the room, again unmoved. The door slid shut, leaving Max to his needless modesty. He took a deep breath, then another, and another, watching lungs inflate inside a glossy chest. Lowering to the bed, he stretched away the awkwardness and turned to the rear wall.

  “Fikarek.”

  The surface faded to reveal a massive cloud of gas and dust with a cluster of brilliant orbs peppering the interior. Widened eyes wandered around the forging star system. It bloomed with every color of the rainbow, turning his body into a fleshy prism. Every movement twisted beams of color around the cabin. Max giggled at the newfound party trick, tossing ribbons of light with his open palms.

  Ross glanced up from an extended thigh. “You really are just a simple wanker.”

  “Shut up, gearface.”

  “That’s racist.”

  Max bent a beam into Ross’s eyes, causing him to grunt and recoil.

  For the next several hours, Max continued his curious examination, like a clever chimp with a hand mirror. Eating and drinking provided an endless source of entertainment, as did the eventual expulsion. He traced nerve strands and blood vessels like a kid playing a rousing game of connect the dots. A brief bout of calisthenics taught him more about muscle movement than all of his biology classes combined. His inquiry peaked at wondering what sex would be like with a transparent partner. The resulting arousal made him appreciate just how fast blood moved where it needed to.

  * * *

  The freighter floated in a pocket of empty space inside the purple nebula. Budding stars and glowing gas twinkled overhead, creating the spacefaring equivalent of a Pink Floyd laser light show. Inside, a pair of transparent naked Mulgawats prepared the ship for jump. Their human cohort had taken the opportunity to catch a strategic nap.

  An asteroid bank drifted nearby, shrouding Frank and his stealthy sphere. Inside, a hologram panel of target data scrolled atop the console, bathing his bored expression in a golden sheen. Flickers of light zigzagged through his glassy body, as if bewildered by the mishmash of mystery organs. The occasional ping of refresh sliced thr
ough the deafening silence. One eye read the readout while five eyes watched the ship in the distance. The other two continued reading the trashy romance novel off to the side. His jaw dropped open as all eight eyes widened and refocused on the novel. “Wow. Bargomeck does know how to write a good flimflarb.”

  The main engines ignited behind the freighter, hooking Frank’s attention. He marked a stopping point and set the novel aside. The ship pitched a bit, then disappeared into a sliver of purple light. Frank gripped the control yoke with all four claws and thrust the stealth ship out of the fissure. He powered the magnetic drive and slithered through the asteroid field. Sailing past a final rock, he input the stolen coordinates and thumped the jump icon. The ship hummed for a tick, then followed the freighter into hyperspace.

  Moments later, a dark triangular ship detached from a nearby asteroid and thrust into open space. It locked onto the same coordinates and jumped.

  CHAPTER 7

  A barrage of shrieks and sirens yanked Max from a cozy snooze. Muffled curses from the cockpit calmed the ruckus, likely Zoey berating Phil upon arrival. Max lifted his arms for a brief inspection and welcomed the return of an opaque epidermis. But unbeknownst to him, pine trees were now deciduous. Ross lifted from a furry pile at the base of the bed and wandered up to Max’s chest, making sure to step on his crotch along the way (a reliable yelp button). He headbutted Max in the chin and launched into a throaty purr.

  “Yes, ugh, hello,” Max said, dodging the intrusion.

  Ross continued his persistent morning ritual.

  After several knocks and a mouthful of fur, Max cupped his companion’s face with both hands. “That’s enough. I’m up, you can stop.”

  Ross quieted and scrunched his brow. “You know, now that I think about it, I’m not sure why I even do this. I don’t eat, I’m not hungry, so it serves no purpose.”

  “Compulsion, maybe?”

  “Yeah, like when I see an open box and need to be inside it. And I mean neeeeed, like a sexual yearning or something.”

  Max nudged Ross off his chest. “And on that note, I’m definitely up.”

  Tossing the sheets aside, he swung his legs out of bed and dropped his feet to the cold floor. A moaning yawn and reaching stretch greeted the new day, but then he slouched with the realization of what lay ahead. Lifting from the bed, he shuffled over to the wall panel and thumped it with his forehead, opening the sink cubby. He wallowed through a grooming routine, complete with bitchy groans and petty sighs. Subsequent taps reset the sink and opened a laundry drawer. He slipped into a fresh set of duds, accenting each yank and pull with a catty grunt. A final tap and slap reset the room and opened the door.

  “Bacock!” Steve said from just outside.

  Max flinched into a stumble. “Ugh, jeez, warn me next time.”

  “I submit that was an appropriate warning.”

  “He means don’t stand outside the door like a serial killer.” Ross trotted into the cargo bay. A tail whip smacked Steve in the face, causing him to flap and jerk away.

  “Puss.”

  “Cock.”

  Ross hissed.

  Steve growled, which caught everyone off guard.

  “Children!” Zoey said from the cockpit. “Stow your shit and come check this out.”

  Max clanked up the narrow passage with Ross and Steve plodding behind. Ross leapt into Perra’s lap as Steve flapped up to Zoey’s headrest. Two jaws and a beak dropped when they caught the image in the viewport. The massive horizon of Phil’s Place stretched from end to end, its vast blue seas reflecting sunlight through a crystal clear atmosphere. The mocha browns of towering mountain ranges carved through sheets of green. Thin ribbons of white clouds cast shadowy strips along the surface. And then the plat du jour, a colossal band of icy rings lifted from below and encircled the entire planet. They glittered with a garnet hue, reflecting the red dwarf star in the distance.

  “That is the second most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen,” Steve said through a bewitched expression.

  “What was the first?” Zoey said.

  “A canocrab fishing for finnelworms off the ivory coast of Hanwark during the second winter solstice.”

  “That’s oddly specific,” Max said.

  “I wouldn’t expect an Earthling to understand.”

  “And that’s oddly prickish.”

  Steve narrowed his eyes and slogged them over to Max. “Is your entire species just one big twit brigade or is it just you?”

  Everyone started to respond, but Max injected a waving finger. “Na na na na no, all of you just shut up. You can all dump on the Earthling later. Right now I’m more concerned with Huggy McSackerton down there.”

  “Ooo, he means me!” Phil said through the intercom, thrilled to have a conversational opening. A tentacle hand sprouted from his body and shot into the air like an eager grade school student, not that anyone could see it. “Mmm, yes, huggy time.”

  Max sighed and dropped his chin.

  Perra tried her best to hold in a snicker.

  “We’re in orbit, buddy,” Zoey said. “Where would you like us to land?”

  “38 lat, 14 long, rolling valley east of the mountain base.” Phil’s speedy delivery sounded like a preteen boy on a sugar high reciting his favorite ice cream flavors.

  “Got it,” Perra said, inputting the coordinates. “Be on the ground shortly.”

  A fresh barrage of flashes and sirens erupted inside the cockpit. Steve squawked and flapped behind Zoey’s head, releasing a flurry of feathers. Ross hissed, because why not. Perra snorted with muffled laughter as Zoey slammed a fist onto the console.

  “Dammit, Phil! Get a grip! I swear to Tim, I will turn this ship around and go right on our merry way.”

  The chaos ceased.

  Perra covered her mouth in a feeble attempt to control her laughter.

  “Sorry,” Phil said like a scolded child.

  “It’s okay, bud.” She smirked and glanced at Max. “And by the way, the Earthling cannot wait to meet you.”

  The flashes and sirens returned.

  Max flailed his arms as if to shout WTF lady?! He huffed with as much petulance as he could muster, then stomped into the cargo bay.

  * * *

  On the other side of the planet, strategically out of view, a round black stealth ship floated in orbit. It listed with a slow spin, as if conked or disabled. Inside, Frank gripped his romance novel with all four claws, holding it close to his face. All eight eyes devoured every word. They refused to blink as tears streamed from five of them. After reading the last sentence of the book, he howled in agony and punched the wall. “He doesn’t love you anymore, Vinka! Why did you go down there?! Whyyyyy?!” He cradled the book to his chest and sobbed for a solid minute.

  Regaining an air of composure, Frank set the book aside and stroked it like a treasured pet. “So good, so good.” He sniffled, shook his head, and sighed with completion. Two claws grabbed the control yoke while the other two tapped commands into the console. The ship righted itself, at least to a noticeable degree, and aligned with the giant red rings. A hologram depiction of the planet pieced itself together above the console. Frank studied it with his three good eyes while the others recovered from weeping. “Computer, lock onto the M-class freighter and trace its trajectory down to the surface.”

  “Sure thing, buddy!” the computer said, channeling a car salesman that needed to meet quota. “Anything else I can do you for, pal?”

  “Yes. Scan the terrain and determine an ideal landing spot for concealed interception.”

  “Roger dodger!”

  The hologram planet spun and zoomed into a blinking red X, marking the freighter’s destination. A blinking blue X appeared close by, denoting a hidden landing zone tucked behind a rocky outcrop. The hologram recentered onto the blue X and flashed an arrow into the sky. The icon raced down to the surface and buried itself into the blue X, adding a splash of pixels to the park here directive. Frank balked as an animated lan
ding strip appeared.

  “That’s enough, ‘puter. I got the memo.”

  “Sorry, good buddy! I’m just so gosh darn excited to help!”

  “Bring it down a notch, ‘puter.”

  “Can do, friend-aloo! What would you like?”

  “Drop the coked-up cult leader and give me something mellow, like a gothic teen.”

  The computer huffed in a phlegmy female voice. “This better, or something?”

  “That works. Thanks, ‘puter.”

  “Whatever.”

  Frank studied the hologram, tracing a glowing trajectory that hugged the mountain range and shielded his approach. He nodded with approval, then thrust the ship forward and prepped for entry. Soon after, a magnetic cocoon encased the ship as it punched through the upper atmosphere.

  Tucked away inside the towering red rings, a triangular ship clung to an icy boulder. Its sleek frame and sweeping viewport reflected the warm glow of Phil’s Shiny. Inside, a shadowed pilot studied the stealth ship as it sliced through the atmosphere and disappeared into a mountain pass. The hologram readout from Frank’s computer floated above the console. The pilot fed the trajectory data into its navigation system and detached from the rock.

  * * *

  The tiny freighter sailed over a primal landscape, adding trails of white exhaust to an otherwise pristine sky. The boxy ship stuck out as an infiltrator of sorts, like an unwashed vagrant showing up for a fancy dinner. It flew over a rocky outcrop and into a wide valley full of algae ponds and sandy stone. The steep walls of mountains lifted from the far edges, trapping clouds at their peaks. The planet radiated natural beauty under a blanket of serene silence.

  “There,” Perra said, pointing to a slate platform near the center of the valley.

  “Got it,” Zoey said and swiped across the console.

  Hull thrusters ignited, spilling pillars of blue flame. The landing panels slid open, allowing three tarnished claws to lower from within. The vessel rumbled above the platform, blowing dust in every direction. Landing claws gripped the surface like a practiced gecko. The main engines broke and spun down, leaving the ship to a quiet landscape.