10 Light-Years to Insanity

by C M Dancha

  A big smile crossed the Madam’s face which was overly-caked with makeup. Morg couldn’t help wondering what she might look like without the heavy spread of red lipstick, rouge, pasty blush, and eyeliner.

  “Oh, that Jimmy. I love that guy. What can I do for you, sailor?”

  Morg looked behind himself to see if there was a sailor, whatever the hell that was.

  “No, Madam. My name is Morg, not sailor.”

  When Henrietta stopped chuckling, Morg asked, “Madam, I’m looking for a male Earthling about this tall with yellow filaments, I mean hair, and ….”

  That’s as far as Morg got with his description. The broad smile on Henrietta’s face turned upside down into a frown. “I hope you’re going to kill that little prick. I threw his ass out of here about a half-hour ago. Do you know what he did to….?”

  Morg graciously backed out of the parlor. He couldn't agree with her enough. He reassured her that he would kill the Earthling as soon as he could find him.

  As Morg walked down the front steps, his transponder went off. A holographic image of Crex appeared in his peripheral vision. “Morg, have you heard from Blex lately? I can’t find him and Stex hasn’t heard from him either. He isn’t answering his hailing signal.”

  “No, I haven’t heard from him. But I wouldn’t worry. Blex can take care of himself.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I’m probably overreacting, but you know, after being in combat with someone for years you kinda form a sixth sense and can tell when he’s in trouble.”

  “Don’t worry, Crex. Keep sending him a hailing signal and I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

  “Hey, Morg. Have you turned up any clues on our prey?”

  “Not one. Seems like the little shit vanished into thin air.” Morg signed off, thankful that Crex didn’t ask where he was. He didn’t like lying to a combat buddy but finding the Earthling and keeping him away from the mercenaries was more important than anything else.

  “Hey, Yandan, want to buy some Cannis capsules?”

  Morg looked down to find a youngster, no more than ten years old, standing next to the cab. “No thanks, pal. Maybe later. But, have you seen an Earthling…?”

  When the other street urchins in the area saw Morg talking to the youngster selling Cannis capsules, they hurried over smelling an easy mark. They all wanted to get in on the action and sell their drugs, stolen merchandise, and various sex and criminal activities to the Yandan. It didn't matter to them that most of the products, including the Cannis capsules, were fake. They pushed and shoved and yelled their sales pitches at the same time. It didn't matter to Morg because he had no idea what most of the street urchins were talking about.

  “Okay, you punks. Get out of here. Leave the Yandan alone. Get, before I give you a good beat-down.”

  It was Jimmy the cab driver coming to Morg’s rescue before the local riff-raff swindle him out of everything he owned. The street urchins reluctantly backed off swearing and making lewd gestures at the cab driver. They had lost their meal ticket for the day.

  “Man, they are a pain in the ass.”

  “You got to give them credit, Jimmy. They are persistent.”

  “Yeah, so are flies to shit. No offense, Morg.”

  “None taken.” Morg threw a couple Feltte Six credits out the window to the urchins as Jimmy pulled into traffic.

  “Did Henrietta help you?”

  “Not really. The human was there but she kicked his ass to the curb after he got out of hand.”

  “What did he do?”

  “She told me, but I don’t want to repeat it. Too bizarre to describe. Let’s move on to the next place you think he might have gone.”

  For the next four hours, Jimmy Washington and Morg went to every sex parlor specializing in foot fetishes. The reception Morg got was the same at each parlor. “Yeah, he was here. We kicked him out and I hope someone vaps him.”

  Morg was at a loss. Why would anyone pull the same crap at every sex parlor and expect different results? It didn’t make a lot of sense. It was almost as if the Earthling wanted to create a commotion at each parlor. Was it intentional? If so, how did it benefit him?

  Between the second and third hours, Crex let Morg know that Stex was missing. It was the same scenario as Blex. He wouldn’t acknowledge the hailing signals and then his transponder went dead. Morg conceded that it was too much of a coincidence. There was no way two seasoned mercenaries, who survived more battles than probably anyone else in the universe, would come up missing. They simply vanished within an hour of each other, as though they never existed.

  After visiting the last foot fetish brothel, Morg put in his hourly signal to Crex. His signal kicked back indicating that Crex’s transponder was either out of range or not working. The Detroit 1967 park was only forty miles square. There was little chance that the transponder was out of range.

  Morg tried to think of every possible explanation for three seasoned mercenaries disappearing into thin air. Only one explanation withstood the test of deductive reasoning. Someone had targeted Crex, Blex, and Stex as bountiful prey and harvested them. But who would have enough bravado and expertise to pull it off? He hated to think what might have happened to his combat buddies, but at least he no longer had to worry about them taking out the Earthling. This left only a few thousand other lunatics, assassins, and military agents who might get irritated enough to vap the Earthling.

  “Jimmy, I’m bushed. Is there somewhere we can go to relax? I don’t think we’re going to find the Earthling.”

  “No problem. I know the perfect place to unwind.”

  Five minutes later, Jimmy pulled up in front of a three-story brownstone on Gratiot Avenue. Behind the front door was one of the largest humanoids Morg had ever seen. This guy was at least seven-feet tall and as wide and muscular as a silver-back ape.

  “Hey, Jimmy. What’s happenin’ bro?”

  “You are, Lucius. I know it’s a little early, but are you open?”

  “For you, we’re open anytime. Have fun. You know the way.”

  Morg followed Jimmy through a series of hidden sliding doors. When they passed through the last door, they found themselves on an elevator. It dropped at an alarming rate through a maze of subterranean tunnels and shafts. When it stopped, they were in a tunnel which dead-ended in both directions. Jimmy walked up to the stone wall and pulled open a camouflaged door leading into an unlicensed blind pig3. Morg had a good sense of direction but now he was lost. If he had to get back to street level by himself, he would never find his way.

  The interior of the blind pig was lavish but dimly lit. Morg guessed the room could hold up to two hundred beings. All the booths, chairs and tables were handcrafted from the finest woods and leather. The walls were littered with original oil paintings. Morg knew just enough about art to know these paintings were valuable. In fact, he recognized a few which disappeared centuries before. Was it possible that these lost treasures ended up in a party room beneath an amusement park?

  “Howdy, gents. What’s your pleasure?”

  Standing at their table was a Landan waitress. Considering the quality of everything else in the room, it didn’t surprise Morg that she was Landan. These women were known for their dependability, secrecy and, above all else, beauty.

  “Hi, Luna. Why don’t you bring us a Cannis dispenser and something to drink? You pick it.”

  “Oh, Jimmy. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you in this low light.”

  Luna bent over and gave Jimmy a smooch on his cheek. Morg had to admit to a pang of jealousy watching this gorgeous woman kissing Jimmy. For the first time in a couple days, he thought about his mate and how much he missed her.

  Three hours later, Jimmy and Morg were wasted. The Cannis dispenser released a mild, vaporized form of the drug. It was less concentrated than capsules but just as effective over a couple hours. The blind pig filled up with customers, all seeking relief and relaxation. Even in his drug-induced stupor, Morg realized this establishment was f
or park workers. Cab drivers, waitresses, stoolies, and vendors selling every type of vice and service congregated in the blind pig to relax. They needed downtime after a tough day of dealing with the new arrival of creeps, jerks, assassins, and thugs. There was only so much lust, debauchery, crime, and evil the workers could put up with each day.

  “Jimmy, is there a communications station in here? I need to contact my offspring.”

  “Yeah, sure. Luna, will you show my friend where the CS is? Thanks, dear.”

  Jimmy watched Morg stagger away and smiled to himself. For a Yandan, Morg was a decent guy. He was going to ask Morg why he hadn’t used the ship’s communication system, but the answer was obvious. He either forgot or the transport was under a communications quarantine which meant that Morg was on a top-secret mission.

  The oldest of Morg’s six offspring answered the communications contact on the second pulse. He was a spitting image of Morg. The same hard facial features, scale coloring, and gill placement. Morg couldn’t get over the quality of the transmission. The offspring looked like he was next door rather than a few light years away.

  “Hello, offspring. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. In fact, all of us are great. Where are you?”

  “I’m on another invasion mission. Have to keep invading more planets so Yanda will prosper.” Morg hesitated for a moment and then said, “Offspring, I have some difficult news for you. Your female life-giver….”

  “She’s dead, right?”

  Morg was dumbfounded. He sat at the CS wondering if he heard the offspring correctly. “What did you say?”

  “We were notified a couple days ago that your mate has been classified as non-functioning.”

  “Explain.”

  “Apparently, a deep-space sweeper was collecting debris about two light years from Yanda and picked up a section of scales.” As the offspring explained, a couple of his siblings wandered into the transmission background. “They were brought back to Yanda and identified as your mate. Actually, we’re glad you contacted us. We were wondering if we can split up her possessions and sell the stuff we don’t need?”

  As the oldest offspring continued to talk, and the others asked a relentless number of questions. Morg heard very little of what they said. He didn’t know whether to be outraged, disappointed or accepting of the things the offspring said and questioned. No warm greeting. Not one word of sorrow. Not one question about why their female life-giver was in deep space. No questions about how she died. And, no indication they missed either of their life-givers. All they wanted to know was if they could steal her possessions. Morg broke the communication and wandered back to his table. He was in dire need of more Cannis.

  “Bad news, Morg?”

  “I guess not, Jimmy. I should have seen this coming.”

  “Sorry. Hey, you never did tell me why you’re looking for the Earthling.”

  “The best explanation I can give you is that I’m his babysitter. My job is to make sure he doesn’t get in trouble or killed. I realize now that I’ll never find him in this park, so all I can hope for is that he doesn’t get killed in the next sixteen hours. Our passes are good for only a little over a day so that might help him stay alive.”

  “Man, I don’t know. I only spent twenty-five minutes with him, and he irritated me so much I wanted to blow off his head.”

  “He does have that effect on everyone he meets. Believe me, I’ve thought about doing the same thing several times.”

  By three o’clock in the morning, Morg was so inebriated Jimmy had to carry him out of the blind pig. For a sixty-two-year-old who weighed only 176 pounds, he possessed incredible strength within his wiry frame. He hid it well under his flamboyant clothes.

  There was no sense taking Morg to a sleazy hotel to sleep off the drugs. Jimmy decided to take him to the departure platform and load him onto the next glider returning to the arrival docking bays. It was more than a two-hour trip back to the docking bays. If Jimmy gave Morg a Cannis stabilizer injection before the glider left, he would be reasonably sober when he got to his ship. Other than that, all Jimmy had to do is to lock Morg’s assault rife onto his battle armor, so no one could steal it.

  Jimmy wasn’t in the best shape to drive but whoever heard of a cab driver hiring another cab driver? As he headed down Gratiot and then Grand River avenues, he thought he saw a holographic billboard posting with the Earthling’s picture on it. Jimmy did a double-take, but by the time he peered over his shoulder for another look, the billboard had switched to the next posting. He had to be seeing things. Billboards broadcasts were used for news and crime updates.

  Jimmy locked Morg into a glider berth, gave him the anti-Cannis injection and left a note inside the discharge sleeve of his assault rife. It read, “Thanks, Morg, for your company. You were a great customer. I had a good time and if you are ever on Feltte Six again, look me up. Sorry, we couldn’t find the brat you are babysitting. Here is my private contact number. Jimmy W.”

  He watched Morg’s glider speed up and then rocket out of the departure gate. He was confident that no one would mess with Morg during the glider trip even though he was sound asleep. After spending a couple days at a crime theme park, visitors were exhausted and thankful to be alive. All they wanted to do was leave Feltte Six and go back to their normal, boring lives. Surviving Feltte Six was a status symbol and made each survivor a minor celebrity on their home planet.

  Jimmy Washington needed to get home, take a hot dip in the cleansing bath, and get some well-deserved sleep. He hoped his girlfriend would leave him alone for a day or more, so he could recuperate. If she pestered him, he would show her the Cannis capsule from Morg. That’s all it should take for her to back off and realize the next year or two would be financially care-free. They might be able to take a well-deserved holiday somewhere in the galaxy.

  A mile before turning off Gratiot Avenue into his neighborhood, Jimmy’s daydreaming about spending his new-found wealth evaporated when he saw another holographic billboard. This time his eyes weren’t playing tricks. A full-face picture of the Earthling was prominently displayed on the billboard with the words, “Wanted for Questioning”.

  Jimmy started talking to himself. “Shit, I knew that punk was going to get me in trouble. It’s just a matter of time before the authorities come knocking at my door, wanting to know what I know about that sleazeball.” Jimmy pounded his fist on the steering wheel as he cursed and yelled, “Damn, damn, damn.”

  4

  The force of the transport’s engines kicking into shadow drive was enough to throw Morg onto the floor from his gyro bed. In a matter of ten seconds, he went from a deep sleep recovering from the effects of Cannis inebriation to a rude awakening with a small knot on his head.

  Morg grabbed the nearest stable fixture and got to his feet. He could tell from the hum of the shadow drive system that the ship was moving at a fast clip into intermediate space. But who was at the main controls and where were they going?

  He was still woozy from the all-night Cannis party. But, getting to the bridge and finding out what the hell was going on cleared his head.

  As he entered the bridge area the aroma of female fragrance was the first thing he noticed. He believed the correct term, used on most planets, was perfume. He spotted a female humanoid with long red hair and a low-cut blouse off the shoulders, sitting in the captain’s gyro chair. From the back, he couldn’t see her face. But he could tell from the way she worked the controls she had experience flying a transport.

  Whoever was at the controls threw the ship into four successive hyper-banks. The G-Force from each tossed Morg back and forth across the bridge. With each turn, he was able to grab onto anchored pieces of equipment long enough to avoid severe injury. Even though Morg’s expertise was ground-force invasions, he had enough military flight experience to know the reason for these evasive maneuvers. It was to outrun and avoid being shot down by an enemy ship.

  When the transport leveled out in straight-line
flight, Morg jumped up and ran to the empty gyro chair at the helm. He strapped in and started checking the ship’s dashboard for red warning signals. Everything was in the safe green zone. Engine performance, speed, and atmospheric conditions onboard were operating within allowable specifications. His eyes shifted to the exterior video screens. He couldn’t see anything other than the twinkle of stars amid the blackness of space. There wasn’t any danger lurking close to the transport, so why had the redhead pilot put the ship through such severe evasive maneuvers?

  Morg turned his gyro chair toward the redhead just as several thermal missiles flew past the transport and exploded in its path. Before Morg could react, the redhead put the transport into a free-fall followed by hard right and left banks and steep climbs.

  “Man, that was close.”

  Morg knew that voice. He didn’t have to look at the redhead humanoid in the captain’s gyro chair to know who it was. As much as he wanted to look, something told him not to, at least, not until they outran or hid from their pursuers. The first priority was to stay alive. Then he would deal with the juvenile delinquent.

  “Yandan transport E647. Disengage shadow drive and stand down for boarding by Feltte Six authorities.”

  “What did you do, Earthling?” When the Earthling didn’t respond immediately, Morg shouted, “I said, what the hell did you do on that planet?”

  “I didn’t do anything, Morg. Come on, man. How much trouble could I get into in less than twenty hours?”

  “I don’t want to imagine. Get your hands off the controls; I’m taking over.”

  “You aren’t stopping, are you? I’m telling you, they have me confused with someone else.”

  Morg knew the Earthling was guilty as sin. He was an expert in detecting physical reactions which indicated deception. It was required training for Yandan Invasion Officers. Getting accurate information from captured enemy combatants was critical. It usually meant the difference between victory and death. The change in the Earthling’s voice pitch alone screamed lie, lie, lie. The kid was a good liar in some situations, but not this one. Every pore in his body oozed deceit.