by Marc Landau
“You didn’t know that.”
“Erm. Beep.”
“You were enjoying all the new data input, right?”
“…Beep.”
“Admit it. You were getting off on watching unknown alien worms slither all over me.”
“I do not get off.”
“Yeah, you do. It’s just robot style.”
The bot made processing noises. It was probably analyzing some way to respond. Coming up with a lie. I didn’t want to hear it. I’d be checking its code as soon as I could. In the meantime, I’d make sure to sleep with one eye open around the thing.
I took a look at the plastic bag in its hand appendage. “Why did you bring food?”
“I was viewing your interaction on the screens.”
“My interaction. You mean my life-and-death struggle with a bunch of alien snot snakes.”
“Correct.”
I stepped closer and angrily grabbed the package, then tore it open and threw it into the mass of shriveled worms. They sprang back to life, devouring every drop. “Go get more.”
“There is no more chocolate syrup.”
“Get anything.”
A few seconds later, mini-drones came scurrying into the dock pod carrying plastic packages of pre-made military rations. I spotted peanut butter, vegetables (mushed, of course), faux beef chili con carne, and the horrible lobster bisque. My universe, that stuff was disgusting. I bet even those worms wouldn’t eat it.
I also took note of the fact that the mini-drones arrived in seconds, so the bot could have easily sent them in to help me with the worms. Instead, it chose to stop fixing the life support systems and come here to watch with just one bag of food in hand.
I’ll get you back you, psycho walrus. I’m gonna scrape your code clean.
The minis slit open the bags and dumped them out into the ravenous pile of slithering slugs. When they were done, there was a two-foot pile of food. I guess you’d call it food, but it was basically gallons of colored mush all mixed together and looking worse than anything I’d ever excreted from either end of my body. It didn’t seem to matter. They were loving it. Even the lobster bisque. Dang, they must really be starving if they ate that slop.
“Get more food,” I ordered the bot, but as usual it was a few steps ahead of me. It had already sent the drones to scavenge the pantry. When they returned with more rations, I spotted the cookie dough. “Not that one!” I yelled, too late. The drones emptied the bag. I watched in sad horror as they devoured the one thing on the ship I actually enjoyed.
I spotted the bot’s smile.
“You did that on purpose.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Then why do you have giant grin?”
“I do not grin.”
The alien worms ate their fill, slowly dragging the mound of food sludge with them back to the body of the alien.
You mean Kat don’t you? the little voice mocked.
I wasn’t calling that thing Kat. Not while hordes of slug-snot-flower-worms were writhing out of its mouth.
Her mouth.
“Shut it.”
The slugs shoved the mound of food over the alien’s body and pulled it up to its mouth while eating away at the rations. I was sure after everything they chowed down on, it would cut our survival time down by weeks if not months. But that was only if the bot could fix the life support first. There were now only a few hours of oxygen left. And I was confident it hadn’t fixed the system yet. It was too busy collecting data, a.k.a., watching me almost get eaten.
The worms retracted back into the alien’s mouth hole and disappeared back down its throat, or wherever alien worm slugs go. The alien licked up the last of the food with its very own human-looking lips. When it was finished, a very human-looking tongue slipped out and wiped away the scraps. Then it was as if nothing had ever happened. No snot slugs. No flowers, no zombie hordes of worms attacking me. The alien lay motionless and pristine. My beautiful Kat was back.
Chapter Twenty-One
Oh, now that she’s hot again, you’re calling it Kat, the voice grumbled.
Her tongue slipped back behind her lips, and she stopped moving again. This was so frustrating. The thing was obviously alive, but why wouldn’t she just wake up? She’d been defrosted and fed. What else did she need?
Maybe it was time. Who knew how long it would take to rejuvenate from its battle with the sphere and being left floating in space? I was on human time. Seconds, minutes, hours. This thing was on universal time. Light years. Me and all my ancestors could be long gone by the time it decided to wake up.
Out of nowhere came a bloodcurdling SCREAM.
Kat sat straight up, her eyes popping so wide I thought they might turn into spheres and start floating around the dock pod. She was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. Exactly as if she’d just awoken from a terrifying nightmare. She was the one having the nightmare?
She caught her breath and looked around, getting her bearings. “What happened?”
“You want the long or the short version?” I replied.
“I’m so hungry. Is there any food?”
How could she still be hungry? She’d just eaten a month’s worth of rations. Not wanting to frak her out even more, I figured I wouldn’t mention it. Also, I’d keep the giant worms that came out of her mouth to myself.
“The wormlike creatures that extended from your mouth ate three weeks of military rations,” the bot said.
Thanks for nothing, walrus.
Kat blinked in confusion. “…The what?”
The bot started to repeat itself, but I cut it off. “Don’t worry about it. We can talk about everything later. Let’s get you some food.”
I ordered the bot to have the drones bring a single package of rations, figuring now that she was mostly human, she wouldn’t need so much. If I was wrong, I’d have more food brought. I only hoped she didn’t go through the entire pantry. There was only so much food on the ship, and me and Poka needed it too. If we didn’t suffocate the life support shut down.
A helper-drone hoovered in with a family-sized bag of chow. It went to Kat and laser-cut open the bag. She hesitantly sniffed it.
“Stuff smells rank, but it’s pretty good,” I said.
She stuck a finger in and took a small taste with the tip of her tongue. “Not bad.” Then her eyes flashed bright turquoise and she literally started chugging the entire bag. It was a fraternity style chug that went on for minutes. I couldn’t tell how, or if, she was even breathing.
I stood quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Or get too close. For all I knew, she’d suck me down with the rest of the food.
Poka also watched wide-eyed, but she also kept her distance. She’d gotten the gist that this wasn’t the best time to beg for treats or get too close to the alien’s mouth.
Kat finished then wiped her forearm across her mouth and grinned with satisfaction.
BURP.
She blushed. “Sorry.”
“No prob…”
BUUUUUUUURP.
The belch was so loud, it hurt my ears
BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRP!
It was so strong it created a wind that blew both my and Poka’s hair back. It was hot and moist. Poka didn’t seem to mind. She loved horrible smelling stuff. And the warm wind was like when she stuck her head out the window of a cruiser-pod. She was enjoying it. I couldn’t say the same.
“Oh, my hellvian. Sorry about that,” Kat said.
“It’s okay. At least you didn’t…
FARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT.
Sweet universe, that was worse than anything I’d ever experienced. This was the fart that could destroy all of civilization. It was a weapon of mass destruction. No way I could let this not-silent but extremely deadly power fall into the wrong hands.
Okay, it wasn’t as bad as all that. But it made my eyes water like someone had cut open a thousand onions at once. My nostrils tried to close themselves, and I could literally taste the lobster bisque.
Poka dr
opped her tail between her legs and found a supply locker to hide behind. Poor dog. Trust me, if the stench is too much for Poka, it’s bad. Really bad.
Of course the robot just stood there, taking in the data. It must have been in robot heaven with all it had seen the last few minutes. Worms and alien belches. It was updating that database like there was no tomorrow. If only it had other robots to gloat to about how much new data it had acquired. It would be king of the hill at the robot bar, or wherever they go to meet and trash-talk us humans.
The heat wave blew my hair back like I was in a shampoo commercial. I was covered in slug snot and poop particles. If I wasn’t so fraked out by the scene, I would’ve raced to the sani-shower and taken an hour-long scrub while curled up in the fetal position crying. That would have to wait for later. Right now, I was praying the hot, earth-shaking wind would end before I melted into a puddle of dookie.
Finally, it ended. Sweet relief. I checked Kat closely for any signs that another was on the way, but she seemed to be done. She had that contented look you get when you rip off a good one. I guessed the alien was becoming more human after all.
She looked satisfied, but her face was red with embarrassment.
The whole situation was incredibly awkward and I realized that was actually the first time I’d ever heard Kat fart.
It’s an alien fart, the little voice said.
Yeah, it was. It definitely smelled like an alien fart. My universes! What a smell! It was literally a stink bomb.
Kat looked at me innocently. “What’s wrong?”
Holy hellvian. Couldn’t she smell it?
“Uh. Nothing. I think I might sneeze, is all.” Clearly she might be evolving into a more human creature, but her smell receptors hadn’t kicked in yet.
“What happened?”
“There’s no time to explain. You have to help us fix the ship.”
“Is there any more food?”
“You’re still hungry?” That was impossible! The thing had eaten a quarter of the ship’s supplies in minutes. How could it still be hungry?
Kat looked away innocently and nodded.
“We’ll get you more food later,” I lied. No way I was going to fuel that thing up more. Who knows what else might come violently shooting out of its body? I’d feed it later. Much later. “We need to fix the ship.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“All the attacks and stuff messed up the life support systems.”
“Is it bad?”
I nodded grimly.
“How long do we have?” she asked.
She had forever, most likely, but us mere mortals and dogs had a couple of hours at best.
“Not long.”
“You know I’m not a mechanic, right?”
I stopped myself from saying, “You’re better than a mechanic, you’re a super-powered alien.” I knew she’d just argue with me about it.
She looked over at the walrus. “Isn’t that what the ship’s robot is for?”
“Yes. But it can’t fix it in time.”
The bot beeped and buzzed in irritation, but it didn’t give any sassy retorts, because it knew I was right.
“What can I possibly do?” Kat asked.
"Ha. Pretty much anything you want,” I muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“So what do you think I can do?”
I hesitated, not wanting to broach the subject of the all-powerful alien inside her. But there was no other option. “You. I mean, what’s inside you. It can fix the ship.”
“We’re back to the whole alien argument,” she said with an exasperated tone.
The bot beeped. “You are definitely an alien being with significant abilities,” it chimed in.
“Fine. I don’t want to argue anymore. Just tell me what to do.”
I hesitated, not knowing how to answer.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m not sure what to tell you.”
“Great. I’m the only one who can fix it, but you have no idea how to get me to do it.”
The bot had to clarify her sentence. “I can fix it as well.”
“Not before the oxygen runs out,” I replied.
Now it was the bot’s turn to keep quiet, not wanting to admit its failings.
“The only thing I can say is that when you sense intense emotions, you react.”
“You’re saying I’m overreacting again? Another overly emotional woman? Is that what you’re saying? That I can’t…”
“No, I don’t mean you’re too…”
“I’m too emotional! Fine, I admit it, okay?”
“That’s not what I’m…”
“Oh, I can’t understand what you’re saying now? Because I’m such an emotional woman! Is that it?”
“No I didn’t mean it that way. I…”
“And by the way, you’re not emotional enough. But I don’t want to have that argument now. Not again. You know what? I don’t ever want to have that stupid argument again. I’m so frustrated with always arguing. That’s really why I…”
“Why you what? Left?”
“Fine. Yes. I couldn’t take it anymore. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear? It was your fault. Always having to be right about everything, all the time. Pick, pick, pick. That’s a Govelian mushroom, not a Prunian one. Who the hellvian cares? It tastes good!”
Sweet universe. Kat was spinning out of control. I’d opened a crack in the dam, and a flood was about to drown me.
“Isn’t that all that matters? Doesn’t being together and experiencing things and enjoying life and supporting one another through good and bad, isn’t that what matters, not who’s right all the time about every single little thing ever.…”
Her eyes flashed that turquoise color again. Uh-oh. Alien activation occurring. I crossed my fingers and prayed that whatever came next didn’t end the universe. It was supposed to fix the ship, but I didn’t like the look of it. A raging ex-girlfriend alien with flickering turquoise eyes didn’t look good.
Her words turned from rant into a torrent. Soon I couldn’t even make out words or sentences. It was a hurricane of gibberish. She was flashing green and speaking in tongues—alien tongues. Angry alien tongues.
“LAJAJSXLJASTIBALALIIFCT!”
The bot looked at me with a confused expression. “I do not have that language in my database.”
“Well, suck it all in and enjoy the new data.”
“FLIPPYGORLNOKLITILLLL!”
Poka looked at me like, “Why is Kat saying crazy talk?”
“BALAMAALSHALLLAKLAK!”
All three of us took a few steps back. The bot looked at me like it wasn’t happy about the new data. Poka was like, “Can we get outta here?” And I was like, “Why are you both looking at me like I know what to do?”
I had set her off, so I guess it was my responsibility to try to control the thing, or at least minimize the damages. I meant for her to get emotional. But did we all need quite that much?
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Kat can you…”
“YARIMMMMMMMMMMM!”
“I guess not.”
Her eyes were flickering, blazing turquoise. Her lips were moving too fast to see. Her mouth and eyes were moving so fast, they must have been going a million frames a second. All that needed to happen was for steam to start shooting out of her ears like a cartoon character.
“KAT, PLEASE STOP!” I yelled.
She looked at me with a rage I’d never seen before. It was dark and fiery. This wasn’t Kat. It was something alien, and it was deeper than the pits of hellvian.
“SHAMABAAAAA!” she screamed, and it shook the very core of the ship, bouncing us all around like toys in the dock pod. The walrus wobbled backwards, but its hoover engine kicked in and kept it on balance. Poka’s claws clicked rapidly as she tried uselessly to grab onto the slick floor of the dock pod. She slid back into the far wall with a thump, disoriented but not inju
red. I fell backwards but threw my hands back in time to save my head from thunking against the hard floor. My wrists were gonna be sore but there was no permanent damage.
I looked up at Kat and watched in awe as her glowing turquoise eyes blinked with electricity. They were revving up. Growing in strength and intensity. Then a turquoise beam of laser light shot out of them.
She blinked and looked down at me. Was she going to vaporize me?
Then she looked at Poka.
Don’t vaporize the Pokes!
Then she looked at the bot.
And FIRED.
A turquoise death ray shot across the room at light speed and SLAMMED into the bot. I was expecting it to immediately explode or disappear on impact, but neither happened. What did happen was much more bizarre.
The turquoise beam electrified the bot, sending it backwards as if hit by a blast of wind. Again, it didn’t fall over. Damn, those hoover stabilizers were good. The lights on the bot turned shades of a greenish-blue gemstone. Every single L.E.D., every light on every appendage and undercarriage, turned green.
It looked at me and its eyes were Kat’s. And I don’t mean just the color. I mean they looked exactly like Kat’s eyes. Beautiful and now totally green.
I looked back to Kat to see if her eyes were still there, but now that she’d finished her war cries, she’d collapsed into unconsciousness on the floor. Her eyes were closed, so who knew if they were still in their sockets? There wasn’t time to check. I was too enthralled by the bot’s light show.
Millions of hues of blue and green emanated from the bot. There were shades of color I never even knew existed. The walrus had transformed into a glow-bot rainbow. A dance party light explosion that would rival any festival ever thrown on Planet Frutnik.
Kat and I had gone to her best friend’s cousin’s sister’s eighty-ninth birthday party on Frutnik. Her friend’s cousin’s sister was having a quarter-life crisis. Quarter-life. Ha. It’s not like we live to four hundred. We barely make it to two hundred and fifty.
She was worried about being too old to ever get married and was just out of a bad relationship with a Gregon. I couldn’t fault her for falling for a Gregon. Even though I’m not into aliens.
