by J. Naomi Ay
Shika didn't really like sharing the cockpit with his mom. She kept putting her hands on controls and asking, "What does this do?"
"Stop that!" he snapped. "That's the auxiliary retrograde reverse thrust capacitor."
"Oh. We never had one like that on the planes I used to fly."
"Why don't you go back to bed?" Shika suggested. "Or, go read a book to Sara. Or, bake cookies, or do whatever you do. I've got this handled. I don't need your help."
"But…"
"Really." Shika turned his back to his mom.
"I'm not that old," she said softly. "Despite what you think. I used to be ship captain long ago. I've forgotten more about flying planes than you'll ever remember, and I knew how to do it without all this fancy biometric avionics."
"I'm sorry," Shika mumbled, now overcome with guilt. "It's a little stressful having to jump up and start flying the plane. The thing is, Mom, this 878 is designed for only a single crew. I promise, if I run into any trouble, I'll call you right away. You did a good job plotting our course around that huge dust storm. When it comes to navigation, you're still second to none."
"Well, thanks." Katie smiled and decided, maybe he was alright after all. He seemed to have everything under control. Sometimes, you just needed to step away, and let your kids run the show. At some point, you have to give them wings and let them fly. "Goodnight, sweetheart. You've got this handled."
"Mom?" Shika asked, before she walked out the door. "Do you think Dad had anything to do with what happened to Sam?"
Katie paused and thought about it. Actually, she had already thought that once or twice. No, to tell the truth, she had considered it even more.
"I don't think so," she replied. "But, you never know."
"Sam was a great guy. He never hurt anyone in his entire life."
"That doesn't grant him immunity from death. Just accept that it was his time for a reason that may not yet be apparent. The angels work in strange ways as they guide our fate."
"What angels?" Shika scoffed. "I haven't noticed any around here."
"You'd be surprised," Katie replied and kissed his cheek. "I think you should be the one to call Joanne. Tell her he died doing what he loved best, and he served this Empire honorably and with valor."
"I'll do that when we get to 41-B," Shika nodded. "Goodnight, Mom. I'll wake you all in a few hours."
Katie left and shut the cockpit door, while in the back of her mind, she was wondering if there was an angel at work here, or a demon. Why had Sam been slated to die, and who was next in line, and was it a coincidence that there was a dust storm in this sector?
Sara sat on the couch and wondered why she always had such rotten luck. Every time she went on a spaceplane something terrible happened. It either crashed, got hijacked, exploded, or someone died a horrible death. Being twelve, almost thirteen, Sara was certain it was because of her.
"I knew I shouldn't have come," Sara grumbled to her Uncle Rent. "I hate flying in space, and I really wanted to stay in school. Now, I'll have a whole bunch of homework to catch up on which means this won't be a vacation after all. I hate this. I just want to go home."
"Me, too," Rent agreed while flipping through the channels on the vid. He was trying to find something interesting for both of them to watch. "I always hated school and I really hate flying in space. In fact, the only things I really like are video games."
"Me, too," Sara said even though she didn’t like games all that much. She just agreed with Rent because he was the only one in her family who could relate.
Her dad, Steve was pretty cool, even if most of the time he seemed like he didn't remember who she was, or didn't understand she was needing to do stuff, like eat.
Sara's grandma, Katie, was kind of nice in a weird way. She liked to tell Sara all about her life as a Starship Captain. Sometimes, they'd go in the yard, and Katie would teach Sara how to shoot.
"Even though you’re a princess," Katie said. "You still need a gun."
It was Sara's grandfather who terrified Sara the most. Her uncle, Rent was pretty scared of him, as well. In fact, Sara had heard that some people in the Empire had a heart attack when he was around, so whenever Sara saw him, she always checked to make sure her heart was still beating.
"I'm going to run away," Sara told Rent as they sat there on the couch. "I don't want to go on vacation, and I don't want to stay around this family. When we get to the spacebase, I'm going to disappear. Promise you won't tell anyone where I went?"
"I can't do that, Sara," Rent replied, wondering if he ought to run away, too. On the other hand, they'd probably find him. After all, they found him once before, although he wasn't entirely sure exactly how they did it.
"Then, I won't tell you either," Sara decided, crossing her arms.
"Ok." Rent shrugged, figuring she was just a kid and on a spacebase, she couldn't get very far.
Chapter 11
Pym was tired, and her feet ached like never before. She had been working non-stop for more than a day. The spacebase was filled to capacity, and the dust storm had stalled in the sector so that normal travel wouldn't resume for quite some time. Pym's store shelves were empty of everything, and in the Laundromat, every washing machine was filled to capacity. This wasn't due to passengers' clothes, but rather the group of Centipedian tourists who had opted to sleep in the equipment instead of a hotel.
Surprisingly, Pym was able to house them all, one each per washer and dryer. The Centipedians were quite comfortable sleeping curled up in a ball and they paid Pym more than she could have made washing clothes.
Pym was sitting on her bench, taking a break from the shop, and reminiscing about that time when the Rehnorian Prince had visited the spacebase once again. She had been sitting on this same bench when she saw him stroll out of the lift, striding in exactly her direction. He had a cigarette on his lip, and his hands were jammed into the pockets of his jacket. His shoulders were slumped, and his long, black hair was in disarray. In fact, Pym noticed that he hadn't shaved for what appeared to be several days. To tell the truth, he looked like an absolute mess.
Pym's hearts had bled for him as he leaned against the wall near the coffee kiosk, smoking one cigarette right after another. He was waiting for an Allied starship, which had arrived while Pym was still on break, and of course, that Human, Katie Golden was on board.
While plenty of other spacemen had disembarked, Katie Golden was taking her sweet time. Pym figured she took pleasure in making the Prince suffer a lot.
After a while, when Katie Golden was still nowhere in sight, the Prince started to pace the terminal. In fact, several times he had walked by Pym's bench, pausing briefly as if he might sit down. Pym ached to ask him what was wrong. She desperately wished he would confide in her. Gladly, she would have opened her arms and her hearts to let him and his troubles in.
Of course, that would never happen, not then, and not now. What use had the Prince for ugly, Andorian Pym?
The Prince, at that time, was already the Andorians' overlord. By rights, Pym should have been upon her knees in a bow of obeisance, and declaring her fealty forevermore. After a moment's hesitation, she did exactly that, rising and then, falling before him on the linoleum floor.
"Your Royal Highness," she called. "I am here to serve you."
"Sorry?" he asked, clearly distracted.
"Serve you, Sir," Pym repeated. "Whatever you want."
The Prince stopped his pacing and turned to face her, his own face clearly etched with his distress. Then, Pym felt a warmth, like a wind blowing across her head and into her brain, as if someone had just turned a heater on. That sensation made her woozy, and for a moment, she spun in place, but as quickly as it came, that feeling vanished.
"Pym," the Rehnorian Prince said, now sitting upon her bench, his long legs splayed before him as he leaned back.
"Yes, my lord?" Pym replied, her hearts pounding in her chest, her knees aching from her position on the floor. "Oh Great and Wondrous Ruler o
f Andorus II, how may I serve you this day?"
"Pym," he repeated again, which sent shivers down Pym's spine as he pronounced her name deep and lyrical like a song. "You have an interesting task before you. Patience, Miss. You shall be called to serve soon enough."
Pym had no clue what task she could do for him, what service she might provide, so she waited on bended knee for a further explanation. It was right about then that they heard Katie Golden's voice down the hall at the coffee kiosk where she was waiting in line.
"Single tall soy latte with sugar-free vanilla syrup, please."
As if she had called him by name, the Prince bolted from the bench and strode away, leaving Pym alone once again.
The Prince and Katie Golden went off to their happily ever after, or not, depending on one's point of view. Pym went back to her Kwikie Mart and her coin-op Laundromat. Her nights in bed alone were spent plotting and scheming. She dreamed of Katie Golden's death. She fantasized about sticking her knife into Katie Golden's neck, whereupon the Prince would declare Pym his new true love.
Now, Pym was sitting upon her favorite bench eating her dinner of Centipedian soup with a blueberry muffin top smothered in cream cheese. Since her Laundromat's washers were filled with the creatures, Pym figured she'd take advantage of the free food, so she turned the water on hot and cooked one of them. As she spooned a little foot into her mouth, a large crowd of her fellow Andorians passed her by.
"Woofbert Wangdog's here," someone said. "I think I'll faint when I see him in person. He's the coolest, slickest, Andorian President there ever was."
"I'm going to ask for his autograph!" Another cried, his voice breathless with excitement at the prospect. "He's like a rockstar, but even more so, maybe, he's like a god."
Pym rolled her eyes and sighed as she chewed the back of the Centipedian's head. Her fellow countrymen were such fools to have elected that idiot again. It was almost as if he had them under a spell. They were oblivious to his corruption. They couldn't see that under his purple Worf suit, he was dressed only in false charm.
However, out here alone in space, Pym saw clearly all that was happening back home. The unemployment was worse, especially for young people. Andorians were depressed, and the economy was recessed. Taxes were high, and GDP was low. The people turned off the evening news, and instead watched Dancing with Guns, or that game show about that island.
For a long time already, Pym had wished the Emperor would do something about her planet. Everyone knew that he despised unethical politicians who were debauched. Woofbert Wangdog was one of the worst, yet the Emperor hadn't lifted a hand, or even a finger, or even eyelash. He hadn't blinked.
If she ever saw him again, Pym would tell the Emperor exactly what she thought. She'd tell him to save Andorus again, just like he did before. The people were more important, and sometimes, someone had to make a stand. It was his responsibility since he had the power to do it.
As Pym was sucking upon her dessert, which was Centipedian eyeball candy, that girl, who had been confused about a horse, came stumbling down the hall. From the opposite direction, a stretcher flew. A body was riding upon it, which was covered with a blanket and obviously dead. The gurney was guided by two paramedics who were taking it to the morgue where it would be processed and shipped back home when the dust storm cleared.
"Oh, there you are, Joanne," the girl cried, tripping upon her heels, just as the gurney passed. This sent her lurching right on top of the dead man's body, causing the corpse’s blanket to tumble upon the floor. Exposed now was a dark green Talasian man. His body was frozen in place, his arms outstretched as if to catch the girl in an embrace, which is exactly what happened when she fell upon his cot. Now, the girl screamed, as she became entangled in the Talasian's arms, while across the hall, a Human woman yelled louder still.
"Sam! Sam! You're dead!" The Human wailed, which made Pym sigh again as these women hurt her brain. Their keening voices aggravated her nerves, almost to the point of murder.
Chapter 12
Although Woofbert Wangdog was staying in the Presidential Suite at the Holiday Inn at Spacebase 41-B, he was getting very antsy, having missed an entire day of Worf. All outgoing flights had been cancelled due to the enormous dust storm in the sector which meant he'd be stuck here against his will.
Woofbert's original plan had been to give the keynote address at the Waste to Energy convention in the meeting hall. After which he'd shake a few hands, make some appropriate politically correct remarks, and then leave Monrat to solicit campaign donations.
In exchange for ten minutes of Woofbert's time, the lucky donor would be asked to commit ten thousand Imperial dollars. Dinner with Woofbert at the table could be acquired for only one hundred thousand more. A game of Worf, as part of a quintet, could be had for only one million, which Woofbert considered a bargain at twice the price. The Wangdog campaign coffers would be overflowing in no time which was exactly what he needed to pay for all of Delores's vacation trips.
Since it now appeared that they were stuck in space for another day or two, Woofbert sent Monrat out to get something for them to eat. Woofbert was thinking some froyo might be nice. Chocolate malt mixed with baby Andorian jelly fish slime would hit the spot, especially if it was served in a waffle cone with a spoon.
While Monrat was waiting in the queue at the FroyoGalaxy shop, behind a group of Andorian conventioneers, he heard some excited whispering, some rumors and some innuendo that the Emperor Sehron de Kudisha's spaceplane had just landed.
"That's ridiculous," Monrat scoffed, although his blood went cold. "Everyone knows the Emperor never leaves the Capital Planet."
"No, they're going on vacation," a woman claimed. "The entire Imperial Family is aboard. They were waylaid by the dust storm just like the rest of us."
Now, Monrat, being a sane and sensible guy, realized that the Emperor's presence could not be a coincidence. In fact, Monrat was convinced that Woofbert was next on the list of politicians to be eliminated. For whatever reason, the Emperor had arrived to do the deed himself.
"Are you still in line," the woman asked as Monrat backed against the wall.
"No," Monrat mumbled, deciding that he and Woofbert must immediately hide. Time was of the essence, and it was short.
Woofbert Wangdog was not anxious to leave his Presidential Suite. It had a huge canopied king bed with a thermopedic mattress. The sitting room had a vid that was larger than even the one back home at the Presidential Palace on Andorus II. The bar was well stocked with tiny bottles, and there were snacks on a shelf next to the door. The galactic view of stars would have been incredible if the dust storm didn't obscure every tiny blip of light. In fact, he was enjoying his vacation here. Oops. He meant this taxpayer funded convention junket.
"How do you know the Emperor is here?" Woofbert asked, staring at the mirror.
Actually, he was admiring his own reflection, occasionally blowing himself a kiss. His dark blue hair was only slightly tinged with gray, enough to make it look like he had been working very hard while it was still thick and tightly curling on top of his head. Woofbert's figure was still neat and trim, which might have been due to the diet Delores had put him on. Delores believed in fitness. In fact, everyone on Andorus was on a diet, as well. Eliminating fats, carbs, proteins, and grains was Delores's personal mission. Of course, that didn’t leave very much for the people to consume, which meant they'd be slim and have lower health care costs.
"We will fight fat!" Delores had declared in the many pressers and rallies they had organized to promote their healthy and incredibly thin agenda.
No one but Woofbert knew of Delores secret vice. In the middle of the night, she grew hungry for cakes stuffed with Andorian Ox Neck cream. While the presidential household was asleep, Delores would sneak into the kitchens three floors below and stuff her face with more fats, carbs and calories than most people ate all week.
"Mr. President," Monrat whispered, earnestly. He was keeping his voice low in case
the Emperor overheard. "I believe the Emperor has come to see you die. In fact, I'm sure he plans to do the deed himself. I beg of you. We must find a place on this spacebase to hide out."
"I don't believe that for a minute," Woofbert replied, satisfied that he was looking fine. "I bet he has come to play a round of Worf. He's heard I'm the best contender in this galaxy, and of course, I am. Really, he's just coming to play a game."
"Mr. President!" Monrat urged, wanting to shake Woofbert's dense and obtuse head, not realizing that Woofbert's words were actually prophetic. "Everyone knows that chess is the only game the Emperor plays. He always wins and to the loser that means a certain and miserable death, especially if you are a politician who he despises. If you won't take my warning and act upon it, I'll be forced to resign and hide all by myself. I'm not going to die for you despite the loyalty I have always felt. Will you come or shall I just go alone?"
"Go," Woofbert proclaimed, and waved his hand as he went to lie upon his thermopedic bed. "There are plenty of other bootlicking politicos lining up to take your place. On your way out, send in whoever is next in line."
Monrat realized that this was indeed true, so he packed his bag and left Woofbert and his issues to the assistant chief of staff. Monrat headed out into the terminal, searching for a good place to hide, but instead ended up in the Space Sailor's Bar for the duration.
Sara de Kudisha had decided she was definitely going to run away, so when she walked off the ship with Steve and Rent, she figured that would be the time to make her break. She felt a little bit bad. Steve was a good guy and trying to do his best, even though he had no clue what she was all about.
Rent was also clueless, but in a nice uncle kind of way. However, that wasn't reason enough for her to stick around. Sara wasn't sure where she would go. Maybe back to Turko to stay with her friend, Carolie, whose father had just died on the spaceplane Sara had gotten off.