The Search for Spark

by Steven Erikson

  “It’s just a stick,” Betty replied. “I use it to, uh, pick my nose.”

  “Oh. Very well. Carry on. So long as it’s not a baseball bat.”

  They set off for the giant elevator that was already on its way down with its load of new prisoners.

  “Now, darlings all,” said Felasha, “I have a surprise for you! We’re going to assist two new inmates to escape, only to then assassinate them on the planet surface. As a reward, our multiple life sentences will be reduced to a single life sentence. Isn’t that wonderful? So, just follow my lead and everything will go precisely as planned.”

  “What did these two inmates do to earn assassination?” Molly asked.

  “No idea,” Felasha replied. “But if I had to guess, they’re geniuses whose very existence threatens the ongoing half-assed ultracorrupt cynically decayed governance of the galaxy, so all the petty-minded dimwits clinging desperately to their illusory power need them dead, and need it now.”

  “All right,” said Betty, “that’s my kind of assassination!”

  “Ahh,” smiled Felasha, “you must be one of those petty-minded dimwits then, begging the question: What are you doing here?”

  “I was defeated by a genius, of course.”

  “That makes sense. Now, if asked, can you use that stick to beat people over the head with?”

  Betty frowned. “Oh dear, I’m not sure.”

  “Actually,” said Molly, “the captain was just using it like a baseb—”

  “Be quiet, Molly! Stop babbling nonsense! Now, Wondrous Felasha, just point me in the right direction and watch me whack away. Uh, as best I can. I mean, it goes against my nature, of course, being a peace-loving Klang and all.”

  “You must learn to overcome your many unfortunate flaws,” advised Felasha. “Look at us Purelganni! We’re dead ringers for Terran baby seals and yet are known throughout the galaxy as the most vicious sentients ever encountered. No fingers? No problem! Helpless flopping around? So what? Ahh! Look, the elevator has arrived!”

  They watched as the five separate cage doors opened one after another, and then out spilled a mob of befuddled inmates. The gangs of bullies awaiting them rushed in. Various screams erupted in the scrum as clothes were torn off, hairstyles mussed up, and pockets emptied. And then the gangs reached the inmates.

  “Look there!” Felasha hissed, pointing a flipper at three figures slinking out to one side, deftly evading the bullies, barring one giant hairy Fwooky who leapt at them, only to meet the fist of a burly man with green glowing eyes and the brightest smile ever seen by anyone anywhere. The fist broke the Fwooky’s snout. Five more rapid-fire punches left the giant hairy creature curled up on the floor.

  “Hmm,” said Felasha. “Paul? I think that one needs a lesson. Go to it!”

  Paul nodded and drew out from his backpack a Grade Three Reader.

  “No, Paul, not that kind of lesson,” Felasha explained patiently. “I want you to beat that man up. Oh, and be sure to knock out his teeth.”

  While this was going on, Molly was grabbing at Betty’s arm.

  “What?” Betty hissed. “Stop it! Let go of me!”

  “Captain! Those other two! Those Terrans! I recognize them!”

  “Huh? Oh. Oh! Well now, isn’t that a turn-up for the books! Follow me!” And Betty hefted his stick and set out for the two Terrans.

  Meanwhile, Paul had lumbered up to the green-eyed white-smiled man. He threw a punch straight into those bright teeth. And broke his knuckles. Howling, Paul reeled back.

  “That’s right!” the stranger laughed. “I’m a Fluoridian!”

  * * *

  “Captain, aren’t those two Klang—”

  “So they are,” Hadrian agreed. “Now what—”

  “Didn’t we—”

  “We did, which means—”

  “But you—”

  “Yes, I—”

  “How long—”

  “Can we keep doing this? No idea, but let’s stop now, shall we?”

  Revealing tiny fangs in a smug smile, Captain Betty said, “And so here you are, Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback! I can just imagine the whole slew of bad decisions and stupid moves that brought you here to a frozen prison planet sentenced to life in the tunnels and pits!”

  “I’m sure,” Hadrian replied, “but first let’s hear all about your bad decisions and stupid moves that brought you here to a frozen prison planet sentenced to life in the tunnels and pits.”

  “What? Oh, well—”

  “Allow me!” chirped Molly brightly. “We left the idyllic planet you dropped us off on in a purloined runabout to treat ourselves to a take-out pizza and then you wouldn’t believe what happened! There was this—”

  “Shut up, Molly!” snapped Betty. “See this, Captain Hadrian?”

  “It’s a stick, yes?”

  “That’s right! A stick! And watch what I can do with it!” Betty stepped forward and whapped Hadrian on the shin with it.

  Hadrian looked down. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to hurt?”

  “Allow me!” cried Molly, leaping forward to grapple Hadrian’s left thigh. “Mmpff! Urggh! Aaagh!” He fell back. “My arm! I’m mortally injured! Call the lawyers!”

  “Captain,” said Buck with a nudge and a nod, “Rillickudick has blocked every attack from that thug with his teeth. The thug’s hands, elbows, knees, and feet are all broken. And there’s a Purelganni trying to run away. Well, not ‘run’ as such. More like flop and squirm.”

  Betty hissed. “Don’t let her get away! She’s got an escape route all planned out for us!”

  “Really?” asked Buck. “But we just got here.”

  “Let’s go talk to her,” Hadrian said. “Betty, if you’d be so kind as to make introductions?”

  “That’s the curse with us evil antagonists, we’re always so polite! Please, follow me, Captain.”

  Molly leapt up. “I’m still mortally injured by the way. Don’t think this is evidence that I was faking it or anything. You’ll still be hearing from my lawyers.”

  Betty in the lead, they walked over to the Purelganni, who had managed to flee about seven and a half feet.

  “Wondrous Felasha! May I introduce Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback and, uh, some other guy from the Willful Child.”

  “Buck DeFrank. Chief Engineer.”

  “Oh!” Betty smiled. “How delightful! Yes, and Buck DeFrank, Chief Engineer. And this, of course, is Molly, who you may recall from our countless meetings and innumerable instances of you threatening and bullying and terrorizing us.”

  The Purelganni looked up. “Oh be quiet, Betty, you’re embarrassing yourself. Captain Hadrian! Do you want to escape this inescapable prison planet? Of course you do! Now, quickly—while that Fluoridian’s busy ripping up the rest of the operation and triggering a general uprising of prisoners even now tearing apart all those well-armed guards who appear to have forgotten how to aim their weapons—follow me!”

  “We’re trying to,” Buck said.

  “I assure you I am flopping as fast as I can, Chief Engineer! See that secret portal over there? Yes, the one with the Fire Escape logo on the door. That’s where we’re going! Wait! Where are you all going? Come back here! I’m catching up! No, wait—ah, Betty, I knew I could count on you! What are you doing with that stick? Oh no, you’re using it like a baseball bat!”

  Whack!

  “Ow!”

  Whackwhackwhackwhack!

  Leaving a stunned Purelganni in his wake, Betty rushed back to the portal. “Let’s go! I’m now in charge of this escape!”

  “Actually,” observed Molly, “it seems Captain Hadrian has taken the lead.”

  “What? Damn him!”

  Things started exploding in the vast concourse behind them, followed by clanging and the fierce wrenching of metal being torn apart by Fluoridian teeth.

  “Follow me everyone,” commanded Hadrian, beginning the ascent up the stairs.

  “Wait!” cried Molly.

 
The two Terrans paused.

  Molly pointed down. “Look at our legs! They’re like nine inches long! Look at those stairs! You want us to climb to the surface using these legs and those stairs?”

  “Oh for crying out loud,” Hadrian sighed, reaching down and picking up Molly. “Better?”

  Molly snuggled close. “Hmmm. It’ll do.”

  “Buck.”

  The chief engineer scowled down at Betty. “Really? Do I have to?”

  The floor shook.

  “Oh dear,” said Hadrian, “I think Rillickudick just triggered a runaway containment breach in the reactor core. In mere minutes this entire level will be flooded with deadly radiation, killing us all.”

  Buck sighed. “Fine, I guess.” He picked up Betty, who immediately clawed him. “Ow! Crap!”

  “Oh, sorry,” Betty purred. “All better now? Good. Wait! Here—” A talon raked Buck’s neck.

  “OW!”

  “Oh, sorry. Better now? Good.”

  “Let’s go!” Hadrian said, taking to the stairs two at a time.

  Gasping behind him, Buck said, “Captain!”

  “What?”

  “About that containment breach.”

  “I just made that up. Now save your breath—it sounds like the whole set’s coming down back there. Hurry! Only three hundred ninety-four more levels until we reach the surface!”

  “But what about Felasha?” Molly wailed.

  EiGHT

  Aboard the AFS Willful Child …

  “Commander,” said Beta, “there are four Ecktapalow Eviscerator-class warships decloaking in front of us.” The robot swiveled round. “And with five Radulak Bombast-class battleships coming up fast behind us, we appear to be trapped and only moments from utter annihilation. Unfortunately, I have just timed out and will now power down my systems for routine maintenance. In an emergency, call 1-800-YOU’RE STILL ON HOLD HAHAHA.” Beta abruptly sagged in its chair.

  “Sir!” hissed Sticks from the helm station beside Beta, “can she do that?”

  “Spark,” said Sin-Dour from the command chair, “take the navigation station, please.”

  “Navigation! Go here! Go there! Go—”

  “Wrongggg!” sang Sticks. “That’s me! My station! You—you just look at those maps on the screens, right? And, uh, do other stuff.”

  “Maps! Other stuff! Exciting! In this chair! Push robot to floor, hah! Take that!”

  From comms, James “Jimmy” Eden turned to Sin-Dour. “Commander?”

  “Yes, Eden?”

  “Uh, well, should I?”

  “Should you what?”

  “Well, you know, sir. Call 1-800-YOU’RE STILL ON HOLD HAHAHA?”

  “Not right now,” Sin-Dour replied. She hit shipwide comms. “This is acting Captain Sin-Dour speaking. You may have noted that we have found ourselves coincidentally in a situation matching the training scenario the Mishimashi Paradox, Part VII, Surrounded by Enemy Ships Inexplicably Faster Than Ours. As you know, Captain Hadrian Sawback successfully won this scenario in record time. It now falls to us to match his remarkable feat.” She paused. “Battle stations. Red alert.” She snapped off the comms and drew a deep breath. “Tammy, prime all thrusters and prepare for emergency evasive maneuvers. Galk, ready all weapons, including the Dimple Beam. Helm, all speed ahead. Take us right into their midst!”

  “Yes sir! Like, wow, bet they’re not expecting that!” And she ducked to roll her eyes.

  Tammy spoke from Engineering. “I would like to point out that Hadrian never had my T-Space short-range evasive capability. Nor did he have beam weapons, especially not the Dimple Beam.”

  “I am aware of our advantages,” Sin-Dour replied. “But it would be foolish not to take, uh, advantage of them under the circumstances.”

  “It would, and of course Hadrian anticipated that, so he had me deactivate all my defensive and offensive abilities. You’re on your own, Commander.”

  “What?”

  “Hahaha! Had you going there, didn’t I? Naw, let’s kick alien butt, shall we? You can change your panties later.”

  “Galk! Target the Ecktapalow vessels with Middling Beam Weapons. Tammy, jump us directly behind them. Galk, prepare to fire! Tammy, mark!”

  “Who’s Mark?”

  “Just jump us!”

  The screen flickered, revealing open space. “Rear camera! Fire, Galk!”

  Lovely orange and purple and yellow and white beams lashed out. Screens flared and died on the Eviscerators now directly behind them. Pieces of ship erupted from hulls and pods and whatnot, glittering inside clouds of freezing gases and vented atmosphere.

  “Halley!” barked Spark. “Matron Ecktapalow decloaking to starboard, 1K distant, weapons powering up!”

  “Commander?” Eden asked.

  “Is this really the time, Jimmy?”

  “Uhm, the Mondo Matron is hailing us from that vessel.”

  “Ah. On screen then.”

  The image of the Matron’s bridge shimmered onto the main viewer. The Mondo Ecktapalow was perched on a mound of mud on a raised dais on the bridge. The reptilian insect-like head bobbed up and down as it spoke. “I am Mondo Click Clicketyclick. Our weapons are locked upon you and in moments you will die. It is Ecktapalow custom, however, to give you sixty Terran seconds during which you can, oh, I don’t know, pray to your gods or, conversely, come up with some diabolical scheme to turn the tables and so destroy us from an unexpected quarter. Metaphorically, this can be described as Tomal breaking into a rash of spots the night before the graduation dance and all this fancy new cream does is make the spots even redder, whah! Oh, now you have only forty-one seconds, oh my.” The image flashed off, replaced by the massive Matron capital ship with all its eight hundred fifty-three barrels pointed at the Willful Child already sparking and smoking in anticipation.

  “Tammy,” said Sin-Dour.

  “Yes, Commander?”

  “Dimple Beam please.”

  “Are you sure, Commander? Do recall that the very fabric of space-time is dangerously thinned by the weapon’s discharge—”

  “Thirty seconds!” announced Spark. “Cringe in terror, Halley? Cringe and whimper?”

  “Just fire the Dimple Beam, Tammy.”

  “Well let’s think about this first, Commander. I mean, it was always meant as a last-ditch doomsday weapon, and if Captain Hadrian were in that chair you’re sitting in at the moment, why, I doubt he’d—”

  “Ten seconds! Spark cringing!”

  “Tammy! Fire the Dimple Beam and that’s an order!”

  “Five seconds and now piddling in chair!”

  “Tammy!”

  “Oh fine, firing now.”

  The Dimple Beam lashed out. The Mondo Matron ship vanished.

  “Oh!” cried Spark. “Poo of relief! What’s that smell? Don’t look at me!”

  The Willful Child rocked and shook suddenly, throwing everyone about. Eden rolled from his chair, across the entire room, and crashed up against a bulwark. Everyone watched that. The inert form of Beta moved a bit, but not much. Jocelyn Sticks jiggled. Spark sniffed his behind.

  “Tammy! Report!”

  “T-Drive offline! Dimple Beam disabled! Containment field breached in Main Engineering—the Irridiculum Crystals are … oh, they’re fine. But still! Wait one. Jensen! Vent the radiation from Radiation Containment Chamber One to Radiation Containment Chamber Two! No, I don’t care about your lunch bag, dammit! Commander, we can’t take much more of this!”

  “Spark, what just hit us?”

  “Uhm, Radulak, sir! They’ve caught up!”

  The bridge doors opened and Dr. Printlip rushed in with its medical bag. It tripped and rolled and rolled and rolled to bump up against the motionless form of Jimmy Eden. A moment later Polaski arrived to take the comms station, throwing on the headset. “Captain!”

  “Polaski? Are we being hailed?”

  He tilted his head, frowned. “Not sure, sir. Someone’s talking … wait. I think … sir, w
e’re no longer on hold! We’ve got a techie calling from New Klangia—I think—the accent’s hard to—”

  “Put the techie on hold, please,” Sin-Dour ordered. “And then hail the Radulak flagship I Saw No Need to Mention My Mother’s Moustache.”

  Polaski blinked.

  “Now, Polaski.”

  Printlip moved up alongside Sin-Dour. “Lieutenant Eden is concussed, Commander. I am applying an emergency cranial endectomy using nasal-insertion forceps via the anal shunt. He should be up and about in no time!”

  “Thank you, Doctor, that’s a relief.”

  Polaski turned to face Sin-Dour. “Commander, I have Supreme Drench-Master Bang on line three.”

  “On screen please.”

  The slime-slick image of the Radulak bridge appeared, with Bang seated in the command chair. “Ah yes, Commander! I made a vow, a vow I made! What did I say? I said this and this is what I said: ‘I’ll find them! I’ll find them or bust! I shall find them, my friend, on their small speck of dust!’ And now! And now and now I have to tell you! What do I have to tell you? I’ll tell you this. It’s time to die, not lie, not fry, but die! So now you die! Why? Because you must! Must you die, oh yes, it’s that or bust! What and oh just what do you think of that? And when you think of that why not think of this too? Fry and die! Now, my friend, it’s time to say good-bye!”

  The screen went blank.

  Sticks turned. “Like, what?”

  Radulak weapons fired. The Willful Child rocked and thundered.

  “Galk! Return fire!”

  “Which one? There’s like five of ’em, sir.”

  “Hmm, why not all of them?”

  “Right. I can do that. Give me a mo.”

  Beams lashed arced out, sent Radulak vessels spinning and cavorting.