The Search for Cleo

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “Lucky you,” Cleo said, doing her best to get Robert wrapped in their blankets.

  “It has its pros and cons,” he replied with a knowing grin.

  “Where are we going?” Celeste asked. “And, how do I work these controls?”

  “We're going to collect some information,” Robert replied, pulling Cleo in tighter, despite his valiant effort to refrain from doing so. “Vox will show you how to keep the shields from collapsing so that we don't all die.”

  The girls spent the remainder of the night sitting in the laps of their respective boys, and doing their best to fight off the ever-increasing cold. Unlike Robert and Vox, Morgan had nothing to focus on other than his current situation. As Azure buried her head in his chest and got as close to him as their both sitting in the same seat would allow, he couldn't help but feel that the universe truly loved him.

  The young man awoke with a start several hours later as he was being shaken by the shoulder. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he did remember some lovely dreams he had just been having. As Robert explained that they were finally out of the reach of the ion storms, Morgan could, in fact, see his breath.

  The temperature had continued to drop until it was almost freezing on the bridge. This wasn't a problem, though, as the shields had already been readjusted and the temperature would soon begin to rise. Unfortunately, it was going to take roughly twenty more hours – at least, according to Robert's calculations – for the ship to return to 'comfortable'. As a result – he continued to explain – he and Morgan were either going to have to carry the ladies up to the farm so they could sleep on the floor, or they would have to go to their beds and continue snuggling with the girls in their sleep. As weary as he was (so he said), he would prefer his bed – even if it was freezing cold.

  At first, Morgan thought he was hallucinating. However, when Robert warned him that if anything other than snuggling happened, he would break the young man's legs, he realized that it was all really happening. They quickly agreed to strict just-cuddle terms, lifted their currently-incredibly-light significant-others, and carried them to bed. Although Morgan was determined to lie there enjoying every glorious second of this turn of events, he fell asleep after about twenty minutes. For his part, Robert was asleep before he had finished arranging the blankets.

  When they finally all got up the following afternoon, the girls pretended to be scandalized by what the young men had done. This didn't last long, however. When the boys tried to promise that they would never do it again, the ladies forced them instead to promise to do the exact same thing if a similar situation ever arose.

  During the three days that stood between where they were and where Robert wanted them to be, a great deal of work was done. Vox managed to extend the shields a short distance out around the ship (using the oxygen they had collected to balance the air-pressure), so that they could begin giving The Morgan-mobile an outer hull. Robert and Doc helped him with this while Celeste and her apprentices continued spinning thread and making cloth.

  Just before they reached their current destination, Vox welded the last joint of the sidecar (as Robert had begun to call it) together with the MCB, as Celeste put the last stitch in her first outfit. Minutes later, the ship came to a stop a short distance from a satellite adrift in space as Cleo stepped onto the bridge in her new, all white, attire.

  “What do you think?” the green maiden asked, spinning around so her companions could admire her new clothing.

  “I think your timing is perfect,” Robert replied. “I was just about to send Ensign Holiday to get you.”

  “I mean; what do you think of my outfit?”

  “You're scalding hot in everything you wear.”

  “It looks kind of like a dobak,” Morgan observed. “Are they all going to look like that?”

  “I don't have any patterns,” Celeste explained. “So, yes, probably. Although, I plan to make cloaks to go with them. The ship still isn't exactly warm.”

  “We're going to look like cult members,” the young man laughed.

  “But, not frozen cult members,” Azure pointed out.

  “As riveting as this discussion on high-fashion is,” Robert said, “we have work to do.”

  “What do you need from me?” Cleo asked.

  “I think you already know the answer to that,” Robert smiled.

  “What do you need right now?”

  “I need you to hack into that satellite,” he said, nodding in its direction. “I want you to download its entire database.”

  “That shouldn't be a problem,” she assured him, before dropping down into her seat and pressing buttons.

  “What are we after?” Morgan asked.

  “Data,” Robert replied dismissively.

  “Mmmm,” Cleo hummed.

  “What's wrong?”

  “I'm not sure anything's 'wrong', exactly,” she said. “I'm in, but this is a military satellite. It scanned us as part of its 'handshake'.”

  “Can you delete the information it collected?”

  “I can,” she nodded. “But, it's already sent a message to someone. It looks like that's part of its standard protocol.”

  “You can't stop it?” Robert asked.

  “I already have,” she explained. “But, it's too late to prevent it. If I had known it was going to do that, we might have been able to do something about it, but it's too late now.”

  “No worries,” he replied. “I didn't know about it, either. Vox, let's get the stealth-generators online.”

  “That's going to eat up a lot of power, boss.”

  “I know,” he nodded.

  “Which means going back to freezing to death,” Cleo said, shaking her head.

  “Hot dog!” Morgan exclaimed.

  “Try not to sound so ecstatic about us being uncomfortable,” Azure said, rolling her eyes.

  “I was just thinking about the fringe benefits.”

  “I know.”

  “We'll do our best to keep the heat on, small girl,” Vox said.

  “Don't strain yourselves,” Morgan replied.

  “If nothing else,” Robert added, “I'm sure we'll be able to keep the saloon warm this time. Having our stealth-field up constantly isn't going to be like fighting off an ion storm. Also, I think we should be able to tweak the power settings. We're on the very edge of the Farlinic Empire. Their ships can see through simple cloaks, but not through anything like what we've got. Either way, do we have all the data yet?”

  “We do,” Cleo nodded. “I'm just making sure all the information it collected on us is gone. And... it is.”

  “Good,” Robert nodded. “Let's get out of here.”

  “Where are we heading now?” Morgan asked.

  “At the moment, just 'away from here',” Robert replied. “After I've had a few minutes to go over what we've got, though, we're going to head in for a pit stop.”

  Cleo put the ship in motion as Vox fired up the stealth-field. Less than an hour after this, Robert had selected their next destination and set their course accordingly. He was extremely pleased, he explained to his crew, both because they had more than enough fuel to get where they were going (provided they kept running at 'dead slow') and because he had just discovered another game for them to play. This was a blessing because it would be two more weeks before they arrived at their destination and foreign-films can only entertain for so long.

  Chapter 13: One Man's Jewelry

  “Is it me,” Morgan asked with a smile, “or is it getting colder in here.”

  “It's you,” Azure assured him.

  “Two things, Morgan,” Robert said, turning his eyes to his friend. “The stealth-field has only been on for just over an hour and, while I was doing my research, Vox managed to streamline our power needs to the point where we can be hidden and warm at the same time.”

  “Thanks, Vox,” Cleo smiled.

  “Yeah,” Morgan nodded. “Thanks... Anyway, Rob, what is this game of yours? Are we going to compete in t
he long-jump because there's some chasm we have to get across or something?”

  “We would just fly to the other side,” the traveler replied.

  “No, we wouldn't,” the young man asserted. “There would be an ion storm, or a field that keeps gravity drives from working, or some other crazy thing like out of an episode of Star Trek.”

  “I suppose it does seem that way at times,” Doc acknowledged.

  “We're not long-jump competing,” Robert said, shaking his head.

  “Morgan's taller than you,” Azure pointed out. “He'd beat you, anyway.”

  “Are you serious?!” Robert asked with a tone of sincere shock. “He moves like an ox. Not only could I out jump him in the long-jump, I could jump over his head.”

  “You're insane,” she opined. “He's, like, seven inches taller than you.”

  “Seven-and-a-half,” Morgan corrected.

  “Vox,” Robert said, turning to the chief engineer, “how high would you say the ceiling is in the sidecar?”

  “Not high enough for you to jump over Morgan's head,” Vox replied with a smile.

  “Rob,” Celeste interjected, “what is this new game of yours?”

  “This isn't over,” he assured Morgan and Azure before turning his attention to the ship's cook. “In amongst the data we grabbed, there's a rather unique primitive language, along with its translation into Common.”

  “Okay,” Morgan replied, raising his hands. “Hold on. Give me a sec... The game is that we're going to learn this language.”

  “Right so far.”

  “Because...” he continued. “It's not really a 'game' at all. We need to be able to talk to some of these primitives for some reason, and we don't have any brain programming equipment on board.”

  “Impressive.”

  “You said we had to make a 'pit stop',” Morgan pointed out. “Meaning; it probably has something to do with getting more fuel.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Since we all need to learn,” he said, “it’s going to have some kind of point system, where we can all get 'points'.”

  “Why not?” the traveler shrugged.

  “You, me, and probably Vox,” he mused aloud, “will be able to trade 'points' for 'rewards' from our respective ladies...”

  “I hadn't gotten that far yet.”

  “Shhh,” Morgan replied, “I'm thinking.”

  “You've thought far enough,” Cleo asserted.

  “What can the 'respective ladies' trade points for?” Azure asked.

  “Don't encourage him,” Cleo said.

  “Foot rubs?” Morgan suggested.

  “That's good enough for me,” Celeste smiled.

  “I'm sure we'll be able to think of other things,” Morgan said, giving Azure a wink.

  “What about Doc?” Cleo asked, attempting to mentally pour cold water on Morgan.

  “It'll all balance out,” Robert replied. “He'll just be keeping all of his points, on top of which, he couldn't care less who wins my stupid game, as long as he learns the language. Am I right, Doc?”

  “You know me like a book, Rob,” Doc chuckled.

  “A good book,” the traveler asserted. “We have the rest of the night to work out the details. Tomorrow, we start playing during all our breaks.”

  After a prolonged discussion, they came up with rules on how many points a player got for remembering the definition of words, conjugating verbs, recognizing common phrases, and all kinds of other feats associated with learning a new language. They also discussed the 'rewards' system – including a kind of bidding for the duration of certain kinds of reward allotments in seconds and minutes (the unit of measurement being dependent on the type of reward). There was a sliding pay-scale based on the 'quality' of the reward (some of them even requiring a 'tranq-deposit'; as any player that got themselves – or their partner – tranq-ed had to 'pay for' the tranquilizer by giving everyone else points).

  Other than Morgan asking 'does tongue cost extra?' and Robert threatening to break his mouth, things went very smoothly. One of the points of contention (at least between Robert and Morgan) was whether points could be 'spent twice'. For instance, could Morgan use points he got for rubbing feet to buy 'other things'. He couldn't. This annoyed him, but Robert was insistent. He explained that they couldn't let it devolve into a 'point trading' game. Even Morgan could understand the reasoning behind this, although he resolutely refused to admit it. After all the decisions had been made, the entire crew headed for bed.

  The following morning after breakfast, Celeste, Cleo, and Morgan headed to the workroom to continue spinning, weaving, and sewing, while Robert, Vox, and Doc continued to work on the ship (including turning part of the sidecar into a temporary bedroom for Vox and Celeste that was large enough for them to sleep in the same bed). Azure was called on to help both groups as she had become their second-best spinner, and was steadily becoming a first-rate technician, as well as learning more and more about actual engineering.

  Morgan was very interested in studying those same arts at her side, but Captain Hood decided that each of them found the other too distracting to safely be allowed to work on 'his new bird' together. As a result, Morgan could only help with the ship where Azure wasn't and vice-versa. That being the case, he mainly just stuck to carding cotton and weaving cloth.

  While this work was going on, the entire crew studied the language of the Bratwurstian's – as Robert called them. (Morgan began to wonder if he was even trying anymore – everyone on Earth knew what bratwurst was...) They made steady progress during the day, and all of them earned several points during their first break. Morgan wanted to spend all of his immediately, but Robert said he had to wait to do that until the last session of the night. When Azure assured him that she would make 'saving them up' 'worth his while', he stopped arguing about it.

  That evening, Azure arrived in the saloon attired in a new outfit of white (complete with cloak), just before the game was renewed. Many points were earned and spent and Doc was appointed 'official score keeper' as he wasn't subject to the same temptation to cheat that the other six members of the crew had to face. Cleo admitted, while Robert was sitting on the floor rubbing her feet for the hour she had purchased, that she had originally thought the game was a ludicrous idea. She had already changed her mind. Normally, she hated having to learn things 'the old fashioned' way, but Robert had found a way to make it extremely interesting.

  The next several days continued in the same pattern as The Mogan-mobile drew ever nearer Bratwurst. During the few minutes of break time before the evening session of 'the game', Morgan had a breakthrough.

  “I finally did it!” he cried triumphantly, striding into the saloon with a wide smile.

  “What did you do?” Celeste asked with a smile, not looking up from the sewing in her lap.

  “I solved the first formula.”

  “Did you?” Vox asked.

  “I did,” he nodded. “It was kind of weird, though. When I finally got everything in place, it started, like, glowing and pulsating.”

  “That's what it's supposed to do,” Doc nodded, glancing over some notes he had made on Bratwurstian.

  “Babies find that very entertaining,” Robert pointed out.

  “Cute,” Morgan replied. “How did it do that, though? It's all in my head.”

  “It's basically like being programmed with a dream,” the traveler replied. “The mental image was hidden in your subconscious as a reward.”

  “You can be programmed with dreams?” Morgan asked, a touch of excitement in his voice.

  “You can be,” Robert nodded. “Although, I'm positive that Sister wouldn't give you the kind of dreams...”

  At that moment, the traveler's voice died in his throat as severe shock temporarily crippled his mind. The girls had just walked into the saloon looking somewhat altered.

  “What did you do?” Robert asked with a tremor in his voice, leaping from his seat and rushing toward his love. “What have you done?
!”

  “We cut our hair,” Azure said, pointing out the obvious.

  “What?!” he almost screamed. “Why?!”

  “We wanted to shake things up a little,” Cleo said, shaking her head and her just-short-of-shoulder-length hair. “We were bored, Rob.”

  “Bored?! How?!”

  “I like it,” Morgan interjected.

  “Et tu, Morgan!” Robert cried, spinning around to face his friend.

  “Just as a change of pace,” the young man explained.

  “This,” the traveler said, pointing toward Cleo's head, “is not 'a change of pace'. This, is a train-wreck.”

  “Thank you, love,” Cleo replied with an obvious tone of annoyance. “I was hoping you'd like it.”

  “You are... No, were. You were perfect,” he asserted. “Everything about you, was completely, totally, and in every other way perfect. You're the exact height and color you should be. Your complexion highlights the features of your face that make me want to stare at it for eternity. Your eyes are the perfect shade of 'gaze into my soul'. Everything about your figure makes me burn with a passion which words can't express. On top of which, your hair was exactly as long as it needed to be for your ponytail to stop right at the middle of your shoulder-blades – which is precisely where it is supposed to stop.”

  “I can't help but take that as a compliment,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “and, as an insult – considering that you think I'm less-than-perfect now.”

  “How would you like it if I shaved my head?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “No!” he snapped. “I have a funny shaped skull. It's my one imperfection.”

  “You do not,” she giggled. “I've had my hands all over your head. Your skull is fine.”

  “Not bald, it isn't.”

  “Have you never cut your hair before?” Morgan asked, gazing at the green maiden.

  “When she was a child!” Robert cried. “She used to do all kinds of stupid things like that when she was a teenager. I just pretended not to notice. At the time, I was basically her uncle, so it didn't seem to matter. I should have known better! Everything's connected, Morgan. I should have nipped it in the bud when I had the chance.”