by Marc Landau
Why do dogs hog the bed? And how do they know to sleep exactly in the spot where you want to sleep. And why do I always feel guilty about shoving her to the side? It’s not like she cares. She mostly just snorts, gets up, does a few circles and then thunks back down like a sack of wet mulch.
Kat stroked Poka’s exposed belly and looked at me. “She’s about ten seconds away from snoresville.”
A warmth settled over me. As much as I tried to deny it, I missed moments like this.
“You always had a way of calming her down.”
“Nah. I just think she likes the ladies.”
“It was you.”
Kat smiled and continued petting Poka’s belly. “She relaxes me, too.”
Stop talking to that thing like it’s Kat!
“Sorry about before,” she said.
“Me too.”
“Look, Wil, I get it. This is totally fraked up. I don’t know what is going on either. I don’t know how or why I’m here. The last thing I remember, I was on Deliva and…”
She paused, lost in the moment. Could she not remember, or did she not want to say?
“And what?”
I could tell from the expression on her face she wasn’t ready to talk about it. I’d seen it a million times before. Whenever she had something important to say, it took awhile before she’d sit me down and spill the beans. She’d always do it, but it took time. Unfortunately I didn’t know how much of it we had.
That damn alien is playing you. You lovesick idiot.
“Doesn’t matter. She’s not ready to tell me yet,” I mumbled back to myself.
SNORE. POP. GURGLE.
We smiled at Poka’s noises and it broke the tension.
I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts. I didn’t want to set her off again but needed to try to get some answers. Best-case scenario, I’d picked up a well-intentioned, stranded alien hitchhiker and brought it home. My good deed for the day. Problem was, even if that was the case we were stuck at the edge of nowhere. I didn’t need the bot’s statistics to tell me there was no way to get back to Earth Prime before my billionth birthday.
Even an interstellar-ultra-rally-jump ship would take a few hundred years to get us home. The Outpost wasn’t even a travel-class transport. At best it was a space dinghy or rowboat. It was designed to camp out in the woods and watch, not to jump light years.
“Kat?” I said softly.
“Uh-huh.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You say you don’t remember anything, right?”
She nodded.
“I want to tell you what happened here.”
She nodded again.
I reviewed the mid-length version of the story. How I’d found a rock in space. Which turned out to be a powerful energy source, which turned out to be telepathic, which turned into Kat.
“So you think I’m a projection from your mind? You think the alien used your memories and turned them into me?”
“Basically.”
Kat squinted in thought and continued petting Poka.
“It makes sense, I guess. But why don’t I feel like an alien? Why do I have all these memories about us? Why would it do that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Weird that it chose to make itself into a human who doesn’t know it’s an alien.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure I’m an alien?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Ninety-three point seven eight zero one percent,” the bot chimed in.
A tear welled up in her eye, and she nodded in agreement. “Okay, so I’m an alien. What do we do now?”
“We try to figure out why you brought us here. I’m guessing you know this planet. It might be home.”
“Home?”
“Well,” I took a deep breath. “We were about to be destroyed before we teleported here, so I figure something deep inside you took us to a safe place.”
“Home. Right,” she nodded. “But you’re thinking like a human, not an alien. So it might have different reasons.”
“True. I’m just guessing, because you were Kat when we jumped.”
“But then, wouldn’t I have jumped us back to Earth Prime?”
“Good point. But…”
“But what?”
“Maybe it means you are an alien. Deep down, you went to your home, not Kat’s.”
Kat’s posture sank a little. “Makes sense.”
“Sorry,” I said.
The good news was it might mean the alien didn’t have bad intentions. It just wanted to pull an E.T. and go home. Amazing that everyone still watches that vid. It’s like five hundred years old. I guess cute aliens and kids are always a crowd pleaser.
Chapter Five
If the Kat-alien had wanted to go to Earth and suck all the energy from the planet, it could’ve jumped us there. So that was one brownie point for E.T. alien versus a world-destroying villain.
Also, it hadn’t harmed me or Poka, or even the bot, though I kind of wished it had. If anything, it had saved us from destruction when both fleets were shooting laser cannons at us. That’s when she got so emotional at the thought of Poka dying and it triggered the jump.
As far as I was concerned, the alien hadn’t done anything aggressive. Even the hallucinations were designed to have me help it. Maybe jumping us here out of harm’s way was its way of paying me back for saving its life.
“So what do you want me to do?” Kat asked.
“I want you to talk to the alien.”
“You are,” she replied.
“I mean, the one that knows what the frak is going on.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“Do you want me to remove the alien brain for scanning?” the bot broke in.
“No!
“Remove my brain? What the hellvian are you talking about?” Kat asked.
“Nothing. The bot has its own way of thinking.”
“Yeah, like a Revelian torturer,” she replied.
“It doesn’t mean harm. It just doesn’t understand that you shouldn’t cut people up.”
“Incorrect. My programming clearly restricts me from harming humans in any way. The alien isn’t human. Brain scanning would be informative.”
“Dude, zip it.”
“What would you like me to zip?” the bot asked.
“Your stupid mouth hole.”
Beep-beep. “A curious request, but confirmed. I will find a zipper for my oral appendage.” It beeped and started to roll away in search of tools.
“Stop!”
The bot stopped in its tracks and waited for my next order.
“Just stop commenting on Kat’s brain, please.”
“Confirmed.”
“Also, update database for idioms.”
The walrus hummed and softly beeped. “Zip your lip,” it said. “Old English phrase for being quiet.”
“Exactly.”
“Why didn’t you just order me to be quiet?”
“I forget I’m talking to a bot sometimes.”
“Zip your lip,” it repeated in a robotic tone. Then it bleeped a few times.
“Are you laughing?”
The bleeping cut off quickly.
“I am not programmed for laughter.”
I could swear the thing looked like it was grinning.
I turned back to Kat. “Sorry. We argue a lot.”
“Yeah, I get it. That thing would drive me crazy.”
“You have no idea. I’ve been stuck here for over a year with no one to talk to but that thing and cred-calls from Mom.”
“How is your mom? I miss her.”
I wasn’t going to start arguing with Kat about the fact she didn’t really miss my mother. That she was just an alien projection from my brain. The bot was enough to deal with.
“She’s the same. She misses you, too.”
“She must be fraking out right about now with no way t
o contact you.”
I smiled again. I couldn’t help it. Kat was right. She definitely knew my mom. I mean, I knew my mom.
“She’s probably at the Prime Director’s quarters, yelling at him to make the entire fleet find me. She’s probably scouring the universe on her own jump-ship.”
“If anyone can find us, it’s definitely her,” Kat smiled.
“No joke.”
A pang of worry hit my stomach as I imagined my panicked mother in a jump-craft searching the universe for me. I didn’t want her getting lost or using up all her retire-creds on a useless search. Then again, if I suddenly heard her banging on the front panel of the Outpost, I wouldn’t be shocked.
“Wil? Wil? Are you awake in there?”
“Mom? Is that you floating in a spacesuit outside the ship?”
“Of course it’s me! Who else could it be?”
Another alien pretending to be my mother? Am I losing my mind with the space yips?
“Let me in. I brought you my homemade Horvian meatloaf you love so much.”
“I do love Mom’s Horvian meatloaf.”
POP. WHEEZE. GURGLE.
Poka’s snoring brought me back to the moment. It sounded like a deep space hurricane roaring outside. Her nostrils flared and popped. Her paws were spasming in a dream dance. Soon she’d be muttering and whining in her sleep. Sometimes it was super cute, sometimes super-not-cute at all because I need to sleep, so please, shut the frak up!
Why do dogs snore so loudly anyway? It’s the same for coughing and hacking. They all sound like old men. Even the smallest dog sounds like a two-hundred-year-old man hacking up a lung. Or a snoring grandpa. Maybe dogs have been hanging out with humans too long.
I needed to try to glean some info from that alien but had to tread carefully. It was obvious it believed it was Kat. I didn’t want to say something stupid and upset it-her. Which, of course, is my innate tendency. I had a way of triggering Kat with my blunt comments. I reacted without thought sometimes and got snippy when frustrated.
I needed to count to ten and go slow, or we’d just wind up in a fight like the old days. Poka would wake up, get irritated at the both of us and slink off to another, more comfortable room to nap. On the way out, she’d give us an annoyed side glance. She didn’t speak, but the stink-eye spoke volumes. “Why do you two idiots have to argue and interrupt my beautiful nap? By the way, I’m gonna lay on your pillow and lick my butt.”
“Kat, do you think you can ask the alien what’s going on?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was.
“Seriously. Can you just try? We need to know what’s going on.”
“Fine. Hey, alien, what’s going on?”
“Not like that.”
“Like what? There’s a way to talk to my inner alien?”
“I don’t know. I just figured it might not appreciate sarcasm. Please. I know this is weird, but we have to try.”
She exhaled in frustration. “Fine.” Kat concentrated for a moment, then spoke. “Hello in there. I don’t know if you can hear me, but can you tell us what’s going on?”
We waited for a few seconds.
“Anything?” I asked.
She shook her head no.
“Try again.”
“This is pointless.”
“Please. Ask it what it wants.”
Kat collected herself again. “Hello? Please, can you tell us what you want?”
More silence.
“I guess it doesn’t feel like talking right now,” Kat said.
“It was worth a try. Maybe it’ll come to you later.”
Kat looked at me with a confounded expression. “Why would an alien turn into me and not even know it’s an alien? It’s pretty stupid.”
“Maybe because you’re human — it has to act human? It can’t just switch back and forth?”
“Stupid that it takes on human form if it can’t tell anyone what it wants.”
It was a good point. Why would it become human if it couldn’t communicate? Maybe it didn’t know that would happen. But then, why not turn into some other form? I’m guessing it could morph into anything it wanted to. It was trauma that made it turn into Kat in the first place. Maybe it needed another to shape-shift again.
I could try to shock it into another state, but if it turned back into a rock again, what good would that do? At least I could talk to Kat. The rock had just sent bizarre hallucinations. And I didn’t want those back. I’d much rather argue with Kat.
I wondered what its true form was. What did the real alien look like? Was it the jewel I’d found in space? Or was that just an armored shell to protect it from space and attacks? Was there something else inside the jeweled cocoon?
If I was being totally honest, as much as I wanted to know it was, if it meant losing Kat, then I didn’t want to know.
It’s not her.
“Shut up,” I yelled back to myself.
Chapter Six
It was time to put all the questions aside and take action. I had no idea what to do, but something had to be done. Anything was better than sitting here orbiting a multicolored planet. Just because it was beautiful, didn’t mean it was safe. Many beautiful things are deadly. Lava, anyone? It looks awesome, but it’ll melt you in like five seconds.
For all I knew, the planet was more dangerous than the two warring fleets we’d just escaped. Yes, it was beautiful. So was Kat, but there was a super-dangerous alien lurking inside.
As much as I wanted to do nothing, I couldn’t just wait for something to happen. You gotta “take charge,” “lean into it,” and other affirmations about grabbing the ‘bull by the horns.” You can’t just sit around and wait for things to come to you. The world just doesn’t work like that.
“Incoming vessel,” the bot said.
Okay, maybe it does work like that. Even this uncharted speck of the universe wasn’t off the grid.
“Shat. What is it?”
“Unknown.”
“Your sensors suck, you know. This is the third time you have no clue what things are. First with the rock. Then the planet. Now this. What good are you?”
“It is the humans who programmed both me and the ship’s scanners. I have no ability to update the programming.”
“Always blaming the humans.”
“It is not blame. It is accurate reporting of the system’s abilities.”
“I guess I should be grateful we can even see the thing.”
“Gratitude is not required.”
“Ugh. Can you determine if it’s one of the ships from before?”
“Before what?” the bot asked.
“Do you remember like a few hours ago, when we were in the middle of an interspecies shootout with an unidentified race?”
“I remember every millisecond of my existence.”
“Okay, well that’s before.”
The walrus beeped a couple of times. “It is not the same unidentified ship as before.”
I wanted to say: Don’t be condescending to me, you stinking bag of bolts, or I’ll slap that smirk off your face appendage before you can tell me you aren’t programmed to smirk.
What I did say was, “Thanks.”
I turned to Kat. “Any clue what that thing is?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“I may be able to get more data on the vessel as it gets closer,” the bot said.
Closer might be too late, but it was better than nothing. It was coming straight for us. Best to at least get a good look at it before it blew us up.
“I’m going to the main viewing room. Can you just stay here with Poka?” There wasn’t much she could do anyway, and at least Poka was enjoying her company. The last thing I needed was the dog to frak out and start running around the ship like a lunatic.
Kat nodded.
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
I raced to the command room, cursing under my breath. I wished they’d fitted this damn floating mobile home with
some laser cannons. I was technically in the military, after all. They could’ve at least given me something bigger than a hand laser to defend myself with.
“Bot. Is there any way to retro-fit the scanner-drone’s lasers and turn them into weapons?”
“Technically, that would not be retro-fitting. It would be…”
“Can you do it?”
It hummed and clicked. “It is possible.”
“Possible?”
“There is an eighty-seven point three sev…
“Good enough. How long will that take?”
It hummed and clicked some more.
“Approximately nine hours.”
Nine hours? We had maybe nine minutes before whatever was out there was knocking on the front door. Too little, too late. I should’ve thought of the laser-drones earlier. I ordered the bot to do it anyway. If we survived this, we might need some weapons later. Like they say, it’s better to have laser-drones and not need them, than to need them and not have them.
I made sure to tell the bot to wait until we figured out what was going on before retro-fitting the drones. Otherwise it would’ve broken off and started its task immediately. Dang bot couldn’t prioritize. Whatever you told it to do, it did right then. Like it was the most important thing in the universe. It didn’t matter that we were about to get blown up.
The doors to the command room whooshed open, and I scrambled over to the largest viewing monitor to get a better look at our visitor.
“When is it going to reach us?” I asked the bot.
“At the current speed and trajectory it will collide with the ship in two minutes and seventeen seconds.”
“Collide with the ship?”
“Yes. Unless it stops.”
“So it’s some kind of missile?”
“Unable to determine.”
Great. It was either a ship, or a bomb. I guessed I had to vote for ship. I could at least try to convince them to not blow us up. There was no talking to a missile.
“Open comms.”
“Confirmed.”
“Hello out there,” I said.
