Hold My Beer

by Karina Fabian

  After a block, however, she called a halt. “You’re right! This street is not made for these shoes.”

  As she sat to switch her footwear, Ellie wandered up the street to check the next alley. She thought she’d heard a noise, like a whine of panic and loud scratching…

  She peered down an alley just in time to see a flash of HuFleet red, followed closely by a five-foot...chicken?

  “LeRoy? Minion Jenkins!” she shouted, but the two were already out of sight. She turned back to her companion. “Leslie, we need to hur…”

  Leslie was talking to an Alurian, one of the most handsome Ellie had ever seen, so sexy, she could almost feel it from where she stood half a block away. He leaned over the security officer, who looked up at him, smiling, caught in his spell, her red heels back on her feet. They were too far away for the universal translator to pick up their words, but the cadence of their speech sounded wrong to Ellie’s ears. Or at least, his. Rather than the silky, dulcet tones of the Alurian language, his speech was heavy, guttural.

  He’s speaking German, she thought. What Alurian speaks German?

  He took Leslie’s hand and was leading her to the shadows.

  “Oh, no. Get away from her, you freak!” Ellie ran to the pair. When she got close, she didn’t stop to think. She swung her backpack at the Alurian imposter, smacking him on the head. The man staggered, then with a curse that sounded absolutely perfect in the German tongue, backhanded Ellie, sending her sprawling to the pavement.

  That broke Leslie from her spell. “What? Hey!” She pulled back as the Alurian tried to drag her away. She stomped hard on his foot with her heel. As he cried out in surprise, she kneed him in the groin. His howl went up an octave and he buckled over. She kicked off her heels as she pulled Ellie up. Together they ran.

  “Jerk ripped my uniform! What was that all about?” Leslie demanded.

  “Don Juan. The devil gave him the ability to shapeshift and speak other languages so he could seduce women.”

  “What? I thought he was just hot.”

  “Oh, Leslie! Did you even see the opera?”

  * * *

  In the West quadrant, Commander Smythe, having heard Ellie’s theory, was contenting himself with using his sonic screwdriver to open doors and start small devices he saw on his way back to the plaza. He’d seen enough Dr. Who to know he really didn’t want to wish for anything more until they had a better handle on how real these wishes were.

  In the Southern quadrant, Enigo’s foes had also taken to the rooftops and were leading him on a wild chase full of dangerous jumps, some gunfire and not a little slipping on roof tiles.

  To the East, the city had quickly given way to manicured gardens and fields of vegetables. Botanist Lieutenant Rosien was happily cataloging what she found while Gel kept guard and half-studied for his promotion test. Rosien occasionally asked him a question she remembered from her test. Neither made any wishes nor thought about anything beyond their jobs, thus missing out on all the excitement.

  In the Northern quadrant, LeRoy kept running.

  In the third-story suite where Enigo had left her, Loreli had settled herself on the chaise lounge and concentrated on retracting the branching growths that had so easily extended to take in the rich soil. She chided herself for letting her guard down so easily. Wasn’t this exactly the kind of thing that got her in trouble in the past? But it had felt so good to let go, for just a moment, and give in to her instincts.

  A few minutes later, her feet had returned, if not to optimal sexiness, then at least to something functional enough for running with humanoid legs. Enigo had not yet returned. She walked to the balcony. Looking down gave her an intense vertigo that even years of training could not dispel. Looking up didn’t help much, either. The street was empty, and she didn’t hear anything from above. That gave her a sick feeling as well, but she leaned back against the iron railing to look up.

  “Enigo?” she called out, but there was no reply. She called again, louder. Tapping her comm badge only produced static. As an experiment, she pulled out her phaser and aimed it at the neighboring building. Nothing.

  She shut her eyes, caught between anger and panic. He wouldn’t have left me without good reason. He’ll be back. In the meantime, I should find a weapon and shoes. I’ll need them, regardless.

  She pushed off the railing and heard a rip. Her uniform had caught on a rough spot in the iron and ripped in the seat. Wonderful. Now I need a new outfit as well or else I’ll have to hide until I can grow something more concealing.

  Mood worsening by the minute, she moved with her hands clasped casually over the tear back into the room. She pulled open the doors of the large wardrobe that dominated one wall, and her mood brightened when she saw the large selection of tasteful and practical safari-style clothing. At least one thing was going her way.

  Dressed in full-sear breeches, high boots that were surprisingly comfortable, and a white blouse that tied at the waist and was just a tad too tight around the bosom, Loreli made a methodical search of the drawers for anything she could use as weapons. With each drawer and closet that revealed nothing but fashions and curios, her frustration grew.

  “Come on! Enigo needs a weapon and voila! It’s the first thing I find. I need one and there’s nothing on the whole floor?” it had been at least half an hour since Enigo had left. She’d heard groaning outside and what she thought was a scream. There had been other sounds, too, that she didn’t recognize. More and more, she dreaded venturing outside the relative safety of the house, but she was equally afraid of being trapped there alone.

  Downstairs. We found the gun downstairs. That’s probably where others will be. Steeling herself against the fear of going to the ground floor unarmed, she stepped onto the first stair.

  The front door began to shake.

  Loreli grabbed a heavy sculpture of a cupid from the hall table and got ready to throw it at whatever broke through the door.

  Instead, the deadbolt, then the knob, turned, and Ellie and Leslie dashed through. They slammed the door quickly and relocked the deadbolt, then leaned against it, panting.

  “Up here!” Loreli called, and with a cry of joy, the two ran up the steps even as she ran down. They met on the second-floor landing and embraced. Then Loreli pulled back and examined them with concern. “What happened? You’re scratched and your uniforms are torn. Did the zombies get you?”

  “Zombies! I thought the LT was putting us on,” Leslie babbled, “But they’re real and gross and so much faster than anything dead should be!”

  “Really gross,” Ellie affirmed. “Really fast.”

  “Did they scratch you?” Loreli demanded again.

  “What? No, no these are from the Don Juan.” Leslie said.

  “And the fall,” Ellie added.

  “And the chickens. Big chickens.”

  “Mean chickens.”

  As if summoned by their conversation, they heard a pecking on the door and a deep bass bwak.

  They scrambled back up the stairs to the suite and shut the door. Leslie immediately sat on the chaise lounge with a groan. “My feet! I’m sorry, Ellie. I should have listened to you.”

  “Where are your shoes?” Loreli asked.

  “In a backpack, which I threw at a monster chicken. Long story.”

  Ellie had gone to the washroom and returned with wet towels and wrappings. While she tended the Ensign Straus’s feet, she gave the Loreli a summary of their adventure, which is left to the reader’s imagination except to note that a couple of zombies were mysteriously shot from above, and our heroines managed to escape because some guy in a fez led the angry chicken flock into the zombie horde that was chasing them. “When I looked back, there were feathers and body parts being flung all over.”

  Leslie added, “And something led us to this building, and the door was locked, but the guy pointed this contraption at it and the door opened. Where’d he go, anyway?”

  “Who cares? He’s probably imaginary like everyt
hing else.” Ellie taped the last of the bandage and sat back. “What do we do now? Our communicators stopped working sometime after we started running. Phasers, too.”

  “We found a weapon downstairs,” Loreli said. “I think we should search there and then try to make it to the plaza.”

  “The pecking stopped, but that doesn’t mean the monster chicken has moved on. I think we should wait a bit. Let me look at the communicators. Maybe I can figure out what’s wrong with them.”

  “Good idea. I could use a few minutes to recover,” Straus said, “and a new outfit.

  For the first time in an hour, Loreli smiled. “That, I can help with.”

  * * *

  You’re welcome, Enigo thought at his crewmates as they ran from the mob, which was temporarily distracted by the fact that he’d just shot two of their pack. It wouldn’t take long before they realized the fallen weren’t getting back up. Shotgun blasts to the head had that effect. Still, it bought them some time.

  And him. He took aim at the nearest zombie. His finger eased on the trigger.

  A bullet pinged off the stucco beside him.

  “Shit!” he rolled away, firing blindly toward his attacker. He was rewarded by a human scream and a plop. Another of Solero’s goons gone. But where was that fracking Crip, anyway? It wasn’t like him to let others do his dirty work.

  Or was it? Hadn’t Solero, as Enigo got older and more fearsome, sent others ahead to soften him up before going in for the final blow? Why hadn’t he remembered that until now? All this time, he’d painted Solero as someone always bigger and better, but really…

  “Ha! You’re a coward, Solero! You got weak and yellow, and now I’m coming after you!”

  * * *

  In the distance, Smythe thought he heard the distinct VWORP VWORP of a time machine with the emergency brake on. He looked toward the north, momentarily tempted, then decided, no, he had to get back to the plaza and connect with his own companions first.

  With his realization giving him fresh motivation, Enigo was able to pick off the last of the Crips and was in hot pursuit of Solero and Barbie. He’d even managed to nudge them back toward the building where Loreli was holed up and toward which he’d seen Doall and Straus run. With any luck, they’d have found weapons and he could draft his ensign into the chase while Doall and Loreli made their way to the plaza. He’d decided to capture Solero and his bae and drag them back to Smythe. If anyone on this planet had the answers they needed, it was them. Maybe he’d even let Solero live afterward, if the Crip was sufficiently humiliated.

  He loved his job.

  Toward the East, Gel and Rosien took a slightly different path back to the plaza and found themselves taking a longer, more roundabout route. When Rosien complained about the long walk, they turned a corner and found a lot of vehicles bearing the sign “Please Enjoy!” Of course, there was one that fit all of Gel’s automotive dreams.

  LeRoy kept running. He dashed into a boarded-up store and leaned against the door panting for two beats, then checked his phaser again. Useless! If only he had… He looked up and realized he’d stepped into a tack and feed store. There were farm implements, bridles, chicken feed.

  Minutes later, a five-foot hen patrolling the area in front of the store and occasionally scratching for a tidbit squawked in surprise when the door burst open, disgorging a HuFleet redshirt, armed with a scythe and rope, a bridle hanging off his shoulder. The redshirt let out a rebel yell. The hen squawked again and ran, Jenkins in hot pursuit. A small bag of feed bounced off his hip.

  “LeeeRoy Jenkins!”

  * * *

  In fact, a thorough search of the house did not turn up weapons except for some dull kitchen knives, but Ellie did find a set of archaic watchmaker’s tools like her eccentric uncle used to have. The trio retired to the suite where the two ensigns changed into different clothes from the safari collection. Ellie found a tan split skirt, tall boots and olive-green safari shirt with puff sleeves and a peplum bottom, tied with a wide belt. It was exactly what Barbie used to wear on episodes that took her to jungle planets. Leslie found khaki shorts with a white V-neck T-shirt. Her phaser belt was loose over the tee, and she added a whip to the ensemble, the closest thing to a weapon she could find, though it was too short and the braided leather too soft to effectively injure anyone. Hiking boots with high socks covered her bandages.

  Ellie took apart a phaser, a tricorder, and her communicator and was trying to kludge together something that would let them reach the ship, or at least the First Officer.

  Straus, in the meantime, had searched the wardrobes until she found a slinky green dress and yellow tights. These, she ripped into pieces, knotting three strips of yellow into a long piece of the gown. She did this three times, then tied a piece of her work to each of the four windows, with an extra piece at the balcony of their own suite.

  “There! Now anyone passing by will know the three of us are here and trapped.”

  “I’m worried about Enigo,” Loreli said from where Leslie had set her to sharpening the knives. “Perhaps you should arm yourself and find him?”

  “And leave two bridge officers alone and unarmed? Ha! This is my first away mission on the Impulsive, and I’d like to have another. We go together, or we call for rescue.”

  Suddenly, the door opened and Enigo stepped through. The ladies all jumped.

  “Sir! We didn’t hear you.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause I’m stealthy like a jungle cat,” he smirked at them in a confident, almost come-on way. Then his gaze settled on Loreli. “Give me a minute alone with Loreli, all right?”

  “Why?” Doall asked.

  “None of your business. Leslie, take the Ensign and head back to the rendezvous point now. We’ll catch up.”

  “Sir, we’re unarmed. The zombies.”

  “Are taken care of. Now go!” His eyes flared in a way that brooked no argument. Ellie scooped her half-done project into her backpack and they headed out the door.

  Loreli looked with confusion from the door Enigo closed behind the two officers to his steamy stare. “Enigo, what could you possibly need to talk to me about right now?”

  “Something I should have said to you a long time ago,” he stepped toward her, and the smolder in his expression made her step back.

  “Enigo, are you all right?”

  “I could be, with your help.”

  * * *

  On the landing, Straus said, “That was weird. Did he call me ‘Leslie’?”

  “He was raised on the Hood,” Ellie said. “What does he know about jungle cats? Oh, no! Turn off your translator!”

  They ran back to the bedroom suite and pressed their ears against the door. Rather than human speech, however, they head the swishing and whooshing of the Botanical language. They looked at each other in horror.

  “Don Juan!”

  The door was locked and no man with a whirry tube-thingy was there to open it. They began to pound on the wood. “Loreli! It’s not Enigo!”

  * * *

  Their warnings were not heard through the thick door, but no one needed to tell Loreli something was wrong. As she backed toward the open balcony, she snatched one of the knives from the table. Enigo just laughed.

  “Got a little spunk in you, hm? I can play rough.”

  “Enigo, something is wrong. Think. Did you ingest something? Maybe stop to smell an exotic flower that sprayed you with mood-altering pollen?”

  “Yours is the only scent I desire.” He stepped closer, uncaring of the blade she held, or too confident that she would not use it.

  * * *

  Enigo crouched behind a chimney of the building just across from the house where he’d left Loreli. A quick glance at the balcony had shown him Straus’ signal. Smart one, that Ensign. She might become a recurring character yet. But Solero and Barbie had stopped just two roofs over. It looked like Barbie had broken a strap and when Solero tried to help her, it turned into a make-out session. Did that mean he had time to get rei
nforcements or that he should act fast before they’d had enough or got really messy?

  He glanced back at the balcony, thinking to signal his crewmates, and saw Loreli, dressed in tight pants, backed against the railing and pointing a knife at…himself?

  Thoughts of Solero and Vixen Barbie fled his mind. He aimed the shotgun, then thought better. The spray was too wide. This wasn’t like stunning both hostage and hostage-taker. His phaser was still set to grappling gun. He ran across the roof and leaped, shooting the gun at the same time and trusting it to find purchase.

  No one attacked his Ship’s Sexy!

  * * *

  It must be an aphrodisiac, Loreli thought as she bumped against the railing. A strong one at that. He’s completely lost his wits!

  “Enigo, please. Concentrate. I need you to clear your head. How about a cold shower?”

  “Will you join me? Come on. There’s really no need for a knife, is there?”

  She should slice him. It might wake him up, but she couldn’t. Even if he forgave her later, she couldn’t.

  He eased the knife out of her hand. “Better.”

  He leaned closer. She felt her fronts stand on end as they prepared their defense. “Enigo, please, don’t…”

  Suddenly something shoved her and Enigo from behind. Enigo was catapulted into the room, but she staggered and fell into the arms of…

  “Enigo?” But this Enigo was sweaty and had soot, his uniform sleeve torn from a glancing blow of some kind of projectile weapon. He was grinning his excited, half-feral grin he had in battle, a familiar and comforting sight.

  “Now, this ups my morale!” he declared.

  She wanted to laugh, but she was too confused. “But, what? How?”

  “Next time someone comes on to you like that and you have the chance, cut them. I don’t care who it is,” he scolded.

  She saw the faux Enigo rise up and grab the knife. “Behind you!”

  He flung her out of the way in a move that was almost dance-like and brought the shotgun up just in time to block his other self’s blow. Then he twisted and smashed the butt into his other self’s back. FauxEnigo staggered, wiped his lip and growled. He ran at Enigo, an amateur move. The Chief of Security stepped aside and ducked low, using the barrel of the rifle to sweep the other man off his feet and over the balcony, then he hefted the gun into position and shot his attacker on the way down.