by T.L. Charles
ignorant as I am to the delicacies of starship mechanics, can see a genius in him that is so rarely seen in humans his age.”
“Really?” said Galaxy, casting a quick glance at Jeff. “He's that good, huh?”
“Yes,” said Zingfree. “Jeff, will you take the holosphere to the hold? Captain Galaxy will be working on it in there. Be sure to have all the necessary repair equipment where she can easily get it.”
Jeff nodded and reached down to lift the holosphere. He detached the steel cable around it and lifted the holosphere on his shoulders and walked away, leaving behind a satisfied-looking Zingfree and an utterly stunned Galaxy.
“Did he just lift that thing like it weighed nothing?” said Galaxy, disbelief etched in her voice.
Zingfree nodded. “Jeff is as strong as he is capable. That, and the artificial gravity on this ship is a wee bit lighter than it is outside, but really it is not that much lighter.”
Galaxy lifted her foot and felt it go up quicker than normal. “I can tell.”
“Now, Captain,” said Zingfree, turning around. “Why don't you follow me to the bridge? I can give you a quick tour of the Artistic Sail, which is just as much a piece of art as it is a flying machine.”
Galaxy was irresistibly reminded of Space's high-minded artsy talk whenever Zingfree spoke, but she nodded and said, “Sure, Zingfree. Lead the way.”
The Artistic Sail had obviously been designed for Domans. The ceiling was low, the walls were close together, and the entire place stank of Zingfree's slime (although thankfully robotic arms would pop out of the walls every now and then and wipe up his slime with water and rags). Galaxy had to walk with her back bowed to avoid hitting her head against the ceiling and it didn't help that Zingfree moved rather slowly, probably because Domans in general were a slow species.
“What were you doing on Magna Five, Captain Galaxy?” said Zingfree as they walked, not looking at her as he spoke.
“Collecting rocks,” Galaxy said. “I'm a space explorer and part of my job is collecting rare or valuable rocks to sell to people.”
“Is that all you do?” said Zingfree, sounding disappointed.
Galaxy shook her head, moving it to avoid hitting her skull against a light protruding from the ceiling. “No. Sometimes I fight criminals or mercenaries or get caught up in conspiracies.”
Zingfree's eyes lit up when she mentioned that. “Oh, now that sounds like a real space explorer to me. Did you know I made a movie about space explorers, once?”
“You did?” said Galaxy, trying not to make faces as the stink of Zingfree's slime got worse and worse. She wanted to cover her nose, but she did not want to offend Zingfree and make him kick her out of his ship, so she didn't. “What was it called?”
“Oh, it was an old film, one of my first,” said Zingfree in a falsely modest voice. “It was called Captain Laser's Adventures in Space. To make it accurate, I spent three months on board the ship of the famed space explorer Moktashef Tawfeek. I unfortunately didn't learn as much as I could, however, because I got sick halfway through the agreed-upon time and had to leave. It still helped me make Captain Laser accurate to life, however.”
“Tawfeek?” said Galaxy, genuinely impressed. “But he lived at the beginning of the twenty-second century, during the Dawn of Space Exploration.”
“Well, we Domans are quite long-lived, you know,” said Zingfree. “I am three hundred and thirty years old; though Tawfeek himself was quite elderly when I first journeyed with him—although he was definitely not a weakling by any definition of that word.”
“Amazing,” said Galaxy with a sigh. “I wish I could have met him. Too bad medical science in his time didn't know how to increase his lifespan past two hundred, huh?”
“He was a fine example of your species,” said Zingfree, nodding. “Though if I must say, he was too practical for my tastes. Didn't like the camera I carried around me to film everything. He got rude whenever I whipped it out, even after I claimed it was for research purposes. The nerve of some people. Still sad how he mysteriously vanished, however.”
Right now, Galaxy was quite glad Space wasn't anywhere with her; otherwise, she suspected he might decide to get a camera and use it to film their lives. And that would be annoying, especially if he got Sparky in on it. For that matter, she didn't see fit to correct his casual racism, if only because it proved that she had managed to avoid being pegged as a hybrid, which she was happy about.
“What are you even doing on this planet?” said Galaxy.
Zingfree spread his stubby little arms, which in the small hallway gave Galaxy even less room to walk. “Filming my latest holofilm, of course.”
Galaxy raised an eyebrow as they began to ascend a short staircase. “On one of the least hospitable planets in the known universe?”
“I need to,” Zingfree insisted. “Magna Five is the perfect location for the film's story. My producers wanted me to use CGI, but I argued that it would be far more realistic if I used an actual location to film it. I chose Magna Five precisely because I knew I would not be bothered by people who aren't involved with the movie. Plus, I don't have to pay any taxes or deal with local government agencies that oversee that kind of thing.”
He added that last one like it was a secret joke that he and Galaxy shared, though all he succeeded in doing was making Galaxy feel a bit uncomfortable.
The tour of the Artistic Sail took perhaps only half an hour. Zingfree showed her the eating area, the barracks, the bridge, and everywhere else on the ship. He also introduced her to the other members of his crew, which was very small due to his insistence on using holospheres and hover cams to film it. There was the pilot of the ship, another Doman named Rinz Eru; the human cook Ezra Rain; and a robot Metalhead, a large, currently inactive one-eyed robot that Zingfree claimed could shoot plasma from its hands (although seeing as its hands had no cannons from which to shoot the plasma, Galaxy thought Zingfree might be lying).
“I thought film crews were … well, larger,” said Galaxy, following Zingfree down into the hold of the ship.
Zingfree shook his head. “There's no need for large film crews with holofilm tech, unlike the old days. I don't need actors when I can just use holospheres programmed to act how I wish. I don't need special effect teams because the holospheres again provide enough special effects to sate the appetite of even the most demanding viewer. Most of the things I need done are automated. Gives me more control over how I make my films, you understand.”
Galaxy nodded. “Oh, I understand. My own ship is largely automated, manned only by me, my friend Space, and our robot Sparky. Automation makes it easier to control.”
“Indeed it does,” said Zingfree. “You know, Galaxy, I was a bit angry at you at first for breaking my equipment, but you're not such a bad human after all. I'm not going to ask you to join my crew, of course, but I would like you to hang around on the ship with me for a bit once you've repaired the holosphere.”
Galaxy bit her lower lip. The idea of spending time with a Doman made her skin crawl, but she said, in her polite voice, “That's a kind offer, Mr. Drifle, but I can't stay here for very long. I told my friend I'd only been down here for a few days. Besides, I really need to get back to collecting rocks. There are still quite a few I need to gather and I can't do that if I'm cooped up in this ship all day every day.”
Zingfree looked disappointed. “What if I gave you a starring role in my new film? Would that help?”
Galaxy shook her head. “Sorry, but I'm not much of an actress. But you could pay me for my help repairing the holosphere.”
Zingfree didn't look at her as he said, “Well, I'm sure I'll come up with some way to reward you later. I doubt you'll fix the holosphere in a day, after all. Gives me plenty of time to come up with a suitable reward or form of payments for your efforts.”
The hold of the Artistic Sail was much more open than the rest of the ship. The ceiling was higher, too, allowing Galaxy to stand to her full height (which made her back ache, as
it had just gotten used to being bent over). The hold had a lot of boxes and crates, full of food, filming equipment, spare parts, and other things Galaxy couldn't identify, and in the center of the hold was the damaged holosphere on a workbench. The undamaged holosphere was sitting next to it, perhaps meant to act as a blueprint for her to use in case she needed to figure out how the damaged one should look.
But that wasn't what caught Galaxy's attention the most. What really caught her attention was the row upon row of repair equipment, laid out in a toolbox on a metal table, which immediately drew her to it. There were wrenches and screwdrivers, lasers designed to cut through metal in order to perform delicate internal surgeries, and even some mallets for whenever Galaxy got frustrated, among many other different kinds of tools Galaxy so rarely saw anywhere. Not only that, but they were all brand new and seemed to be top of the line repair equipment.
Galaxy looked at Zingfree in astonishment. “This is expensive stuff. Where did you get it?”
“Oh, those tools?” said Zingfree, waving a dismissive hand at them. “Bought them last time we were on the Annulus. Jeff said it was the best of the best; naturally, I had to buy it, as the best of the best is what I deserve.”
Galaxy picked up one of the wrenches and looked it over with great reverence. “I've never even seen a Magna wrench in person before. They're the