The Search for Spark

by Steven Erikson

  Betty made small fists and waved them about. “Captain Hadrian! Displace Molly back to the surface immediately! He’s a spy, an infiltrator, a saboteur, a terrorist! I disavow all association with this treacherous minion. Displace him! Imprison him! Send him to the mines of Rude Pimente!”

  “We just came from there,” Molly pointed out. “And besides, it’s been utterly destroyed.”

  Hadrian turned to Sin-Dour. “Best get Security here,” he said. “Our Klangs are to be escorted to their guest quarters—”

  “Will those quarters be locked?” Molly asked.

  “Yes, Molly,” Hadrian replied.

  “I see. And will there be guards outside with orders to shoot to kill?”

  “Indeed.”

  Molly crossed his small hairy arms. “Therefore not quarters at all, but prison cells.”

  “Sure, if you want to put it that way.”

  “And furthermore, we’re not guests at all, but prisoners!”

  “You and Betty participated in a scheme to get me and Buck assassinated, Molly.”

  “Did we? Did we really? Well, we’ll see what my lawyers have to say about that! Not to mention your imminent cruel treatment of Provisional Almost Citizens of the United Affiliation of Planets! Oh, I see the lawsuits piling up here, Captain Hadrian. Tell me, were you personally insured against indemnity whilst being a dishonorably discharged officer of the Affiliation Space Fleet? Hmm, probably not! Your personal finances are about to take a massive hit.”

  “You tell him, Molly!” laughed Betty.

  “Of course,” Molly added, “if my jail cell just happens to be a little bit bigger and better equipped than Captain Betty’s, I might decide to forgo all the legal action.”

  “Very generous of you, Molly,” Hadrian said. “I’m sure we can arrange something like that.”

  “Betrayal on all sides!” Betty cried.

  Nina Twice and two other security officers arrived and escorted the pair of Klang from the chamber.

  Hadrian sighed. “Ah, Sin-Dour, it’s been a fraught three days, let me tell you!”

  “Yes sir. And we still have the rogue elements within the Affiliation Fleet to deal with. Admiral Jebediah Prim and Director Soma DeLuster remain powerful enemies. Although it has to be said they’re both being raked over the coals following that sham of a trial against you and Buck. They’re presently employing the classic guilty-person tactics of refusing interviews, not answering reporters’ questions, and just brazenly toughing it all out in the expectation that the public’s pathetically short attention span will soon find other targets in its eternal frenzy of finger-pointing which, if not useful, is at least entertaining.”

  “Mhmm, clever bastards. Suggestions?”

  “Sir, we need to get you and Buck reinstated, your records cleared of all wrongdoing, your reputations restored. Might I suggest our first salvo be an extended interview with the Galactic Perpetual Enquirer?”

  “You mean, not lawyers, courts, and proper procedural channels within the legal framework of the administration’s and Fleet’s own well-defined system of checks and balances beneath the stern, objective gaze of impartial judges?”

  Sin-Dour’s eyes widened. “Sir, have you gone mad?”

  Hadrian smiled. “Not at all. I was just floating the idea, 2IC. You’re right, of course, it’s off to the Court of Public Opinion for true justice—okay, not ‘justice’ per se, but simply the growing groundswell of barely informed public perception rising like a tsunami of unvalidated opinion that sweeps aside all hope of rational debate, the application of facts or any other discomfiting impediments to me-being-right-and-you-being-wrong, said wave inundating all opposition including galactic governments.”

  Tammy spoke from a speaker. “Oh you’re just loving this, aren’t you, Hadrian? I see where you’re going with this, you know.”

  “Oh really? Enlighten us, then.”

  “Your thesis is as follows. If the idiot politicians and all the other wankers in power both officially and—in the case of corporate multitrillionaires—unofficially, are proceeding with their extensive infamy and corruption on the basis of dim-witted forty-two-character Twitsies, relying exclusively on keeping the citizens all fired up and frothing at the mouth and shaking fists at the wrong people, well, it’s only fitting that the same mobs they’ve incited now storm their barricades, bust down the doors, and drag out the bastards every damned one of them and then, oh, let’s not be crude here, TEAR THEM TO PIECES! There, how am I doing?”

  “Oh my, Tammy!” Hadrian said. “Now that’s just diabolical! Sin-Dour, give the Galactic Perpetual Enquirer a call for me, will you? In the meantime, what’s next for us?”

  “That depends, sir. I mean, if we were still a legitimate vessel of the Affiliation Fleet, there’s been an SOS from the Hairball System, Planet Backawater. It’s unspecified, simply a frantic call for help from the spaceport of the town of Modest Spaceport but Many Dusty Bars, on the continent of Desertica.”

  “Mhmm, sounds suspicious.”

  “Oh, and the SOS specifies the Willful Child. That is, they won’t take any offers of assistance from any other vessel. They say they’re desperate, kind of.”

  “I see, well, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all! C’mon, 2IC, it’s back to the bridge and a course set for Planet Backawater!”

  “I figured you’d say that, sir. Course is already computed, T-Drive on standby.”

  Tammy hissed, “You, Sin-Dour, are just as bad as Hadrian! I can’t believe all this racing here, racing there, diving headfirst into obvious bullshit emergencies designed to trap you all in some outrageous idiocy that, it turns out, only you can fix!”

  Hadrian clapped Sin-Dour on the shoulder. “Let’s go, 2IC! We can run up and down the corridors on our way to the bridge!”

  “Sir, the elevator is just outside.”

  “Not that elevator—we’ll take a different one! That way, we can run and run!”

  They emerged into the corridor.

  “Please,” Hadrian invited with utmost in-no-way-disingenuous gallantry, “do take the lead, Commander.”

  She set out at a run. Hadrian followed, his eyes fixed on his 2IC’s swaying backside. To keep himself from running into walls, of course.

  * * *

  “My God, they did it! They really did it!” Betty fell to his knees, clawing at his face and wiry flea-filled hair.

  Molly settled back on the plush settee. “Oh, you noticed? Indeed, this cell is eighteen inches wider and thirteen inches longer than yours. Moreover, while you have a metal cot and a tick mattress and a bucket for toiletries, I possess this settee, that lovely poster bed with memory-foam mattress and pillow, and that en suite bathroom with whirlpool and Jacuzzi. I’d offer you a mojito but then I might run out that much sooner and I can’t have that. Still, I do give you leave to remain kneeling there in the middle of the room tearing out clumps of hair and pieces of scalp in an ongoing fit of anguish.”

  Betty paused and glared at Molly. “No!” he hissed. “I won’t give you the satisfaction!” He leapt to his feet. “Can you believe how stupid these Terrans are? I mean, adjoining cells with a door in between that they didn’t even lock!”

  “Hmm, yes, about that. I’m afraid I will lock it after you leave.”

  “And I’ll lock it on my side, too! See how you like that!”

  “Oh, now that hurts.”

  Betty began pacing. “Stupid Terrans! See, we can now conspire and plan our escape! And more than that! We can scheme to take over their entire vessel! And once we’re in control of everything, we can set a course for the fabled Planet Paradise in System Unknown beyond the edge of the Explored Zone!”

  “That sounds like work,” Molly said, stretching out with his hands behind his head. “I for one am ready to accept my fate. Prisoner, paying my debt to society through rehabilitation and towing the line at all times, including volunteer work with wayward children getting scared straight by a visit to my sumptuous penitentiary cell
complex. I can already picture it: me and a few dozen young offenders watching holovids all night eating popcorn, drinking beer, and establishing drug connections on the Outside.”

  Betty looked around for a stick but couldn’t find one. He snarled and resumed pacing. “Then I’ll go it alone, and reap all the rewards myself! Nothing for you, Molly. Nada! I’ll leave you destitute! And when I finally get to Paradise Planet—or was it Planet Paradise?—”

  “Oh just go and look for crying out loud. It was only eleven lines ago!”

  “No time for that shit. When I finally get to that fucking planet, you, Molly, will be left in a tiny capsule in perpetual orbit around it! Oh, and don’t think I won’t be charging rent for use of that capsule! Round and round you go, piling up enormous debt and unable to pay a cent on the interest, much less the principal! Hahahahaha!”

  Molly scowled. “You wouldn’t do that!”

  “I would!”

  “That’s just evil!”

  “I am! Evil! See me?” He danced around. “Evil! Evil!”

  “All right then I’ll help you,” said Molly, slumping in defeat in the settee. “So tell me your scheme.”

  “It’s simple, but first, why don’t we retire to that Jacuzzi? I’m feeling utterly foul and besides, my highly advanced civilization of fleas could do with a bath. And those fleas need to be all happy and stuff, since they’re going to play a crucial role in our taking over this vessel!”

  “I trust you have devised a properly ignominious end for one Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback?”

  “Of course!”

  “Well that should ensure the utter failure of your scheme, but what the hell, as your only minion, I’m with you all the way.”

  “Really?”

  “No, I’ll ditch you the instant it all comes crashing down.”

  “I’ll turn on the Jacuzzi then, shall I?”

  Molly fluttered one hand. “Indeed. Gives me time for another mojito.”

  * * *

  Captain Hadrian and Sin-Dour arrived on the bridge to eager applause from the bridge crew, although that quickly faltered when the smell from Hadrian’s prison coverall wafted out to fill the room.

  “Right,” said Hadrian. “Perhaps I’ll take this moment for a shower and change of clothes.”

  The applause surged back again.

  Scowling, Hadrian retreated to his ready room to, uh, get ready. Once inside, he quickly stripped down and stepped into the sonic shower. The unit took one electronic sniff and then burst into flames. “Crap! Bloody Klang knockoff garbage! You know, Tammy,” he said, stepping back out of the stall, “I can’t believe the Fleet decided to outsource vital ship components in a pathetic shortsighted effort to cut costs. What’s this galaxy coming to?”

  “Actually,” Tammy replied, “that’s not a Klang knockoff. If you had a Klang knockoff it’d probably work, at least until its built-in time stamp kicked in to burn out the electronics, thus forcing you into an upgrade where you’ll find they changed all the power jacks for no particular reason barring you needing to buy all that shit all over again, because when it comes to evil, corporations win hands down. Anyway, that sonic unit is a Hellburden product, a military industrial company owned by a superrich family with its pockets in every government for the past two centuries. It builds utter crap on constant cost overrun, milking every taxpayer and their descendants for all time, all in the name of patriotism.”

  “Uh, right, whatever. Dammit, I need to get clean! I’m still captain—rather, I’m sorta captain, or will be once I get my commission back. Point is, I need to be properly coiffed, smooth-shaven, smelling nice and stuff.” He threw up his hands. “I can’t go back out there like this!”

  “Well no,” agreed Tammy, “since you’re naked. Tell you what, how would you like a proper bath? You know, in real water?”

  “What? Can you do that?”

  “Sure! You have two options. The brig cells, Deluxe Package. Though the Klang Molly is presently occupying that cell and he and Betty are at the moment frolicking in the Jacuzzi planning the takeover of your vessel using Betty’s resident civilization of hive-mind sentient fleas.”

  “And the other option?”

  “Bespoke, considerably more private, with properly filtered water and a reasonable fixed temperature.”

  “Right then! I’ll take that one. Can you do an instant displace?”

  “Consider it done.”

  Hadrian displaced, and found himself in a giant aquarium in Printlip’s private quarters. Floundering, his fists batting at the aquarium’s bolted-down cover, Hadrian stared through the tempered alumiglass and saw the blurred form of an apparently alarmed Belkri in a bathrobe, its hands now waving all about.

  Running out of air and being attacked by swarms of small scorpion-tailed fish with mouths-inside-mouths-inside-mouths snapping at his face, Hadrian began yelling “Tlammyyy! Dlillplacleee! Elmerglecnly dlillplacleee!”

  Instead, Printlip pulled something from its belt and pointed it at Hadrian. The doc began frantically pushing buttons on the small item, to no effect. Then it flung the object down and held many of its hands to either side of its round head/body in apparent horror.

  A moment later Hadrian displaced to the floor of the doctor’s room in a splash of water. Gasping, he lifted himself to his hands and knees. “Damn you, Tammy!”

  “But now you’re clean!” Tammy said from a speaker. “I’m pretty sure my description was entirely accurate, wasn’t it?”

  Printlip rushed up to Hadrian with a towel. “My apologies, Captain!”

  “What was wrong with that Cover-Contraction device? Let me guess, another fucking Hellburden—”

  “Ah! This? Alas, not a Cover-Contraction device.”

  “Oh, then what is it?”

  “Holovid activator, sir.”

  “I see.” Wrapping the towel around his waist, Hadrian stood. “You have programmed a holovid of your captain naked inside your aquarium being devoured by scorpion-tailed fish.”

  Printlip fidgeted and then said, “Well of course I never anticipated.…. .”

  “Never mind.” Hadrian lifted his head. “Tammy, displace me back to my quarters, please.”

  “I’m sorry, the damn thing’s suddenly nonfunctional. Best you walk there, Captain.”

  “Oh it’s like that, is it? Fine! And why not? It’s been almost a week since I last paraded up and down the ship corridors in only a towel. See you later, Doc—oh, by the way, how is Buck?”

  “I have been forced to replace Buck’s blood with nothing but drugs. He’s now fully recovered, sir.”

  “Right. Uh, carry on. And feed those damned fish!”

  * * *

  Hadrian arrived on the bridge wearing his towel. Lieutenant Sweepy Brogan plucked the cigar from between her full lips and regarded the captain with one arched eyebrow. “Well now, that brings back memories, sir. And if I wasn’t here to complain that you keep getting us primed to kick alien butt only to find you don’t need us meaning we have to stand down and kill more time trying to kill each other, which at least keeps your doc busy but damn—say, maybe we should continue this discussion in your ready room? Sans towel, of course.”

  “Alas, Lieutenant, no time for uh, what you said. A quick throw-on of uniform and it’s back in that command chair. No rest for the captain of an Engage-class Affiliation warship, you know. Now, as for your complaint, yeah, I get it. Sorry about that. But I’m sure we can come up with a proper alien butt-kicking mission for you before too long.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “All right then. I’ll pass along the good word. In the meantime I’ve devised a new D&D campaign that the boys are gonna love. The Assault on Mount Doom and the Wizard of the Unholy Cruise Missile.” She jammed the cigar back into her mouth and left the bridge with an airy salute.

  Hadrian looked around. Everyone was staring at him. He glanced down to discover that his towel now hung from what might have been an elongated peg pr
ojecting out from between his legs, but wasn’t. “Right,” he said. “Carry on, everyone. I’ll be right back.”

  In his ready room once more, Hadrian waited for a few moments before he could begin dressing. “Tammy, do any crew possess pet cats?”

  “Captain! You know that’s forbidden by regulation!”

  “How many, then?”

  “Seventy-four cats, sir, forty-seven kittens.”

  “Right.” He threw on a burgundy velour shirt and then black slacks and finally shiny black boots.

  “That was a surprisingly dignified retreat from the bridge,” Tammy observed. “All things considered.”

  Hadrian coiffed his hair. “Natural talent, Tammy, something you with your neutratronic processor will never possess, alas. Proper comportment is an art and indeed rare is the master. Lucky for you, I am such a master, which I suppose is pretty obvious. And while it may look easy, why, for someone like me, it is!”

  He returned to the bridge and settled into the command chair. “Status, Helm?”

  “Like, en route to Planet Backawater, sir. ETA two hours nineteen minutes thirty-three seconds. And like, I was staring, right? And it was like whoah, you know?”

  “Never mind that, Sticks. Purge it from your mind although I know that’s probably impossible. Anyway. Two hours! That’s like being stuck in a feature film showing a spaceship moving slowly through space for like ever!”

  Sticks rolled her eyes. “You forgot the nineteen minutes oh-six seconds, sir.”

  “Right, tack on a slew of boring trailers for overbudget tent-pole pieces of crap with bad story lines we’ve all seen before and dumbed-down science and paper-thin characters. Damn, I’m experiencing a sudden need for overpriced popcorn and a watered-down soft drink.” He shook his head. “Eden! What’s on the comms?”

  “Uh, Channel Seven has the premiere broadcast of The Super New Price Is Right, but the Klang contestant is cleaning up and no one wants to bid on the Rabid Radulak in the Cage, sir, and the Audience Approval Meter is sinking fast, meaning it’s about to be canceled.” He made a sad face, and then brightened. “But there’s an Ultra Super New Price Is Right premiere ready and waiting in the wings, thank Darwin!”