Samantha White and the Seven Dwarves

by Mimi Riser

  "I figure we have about ninety seconds before they sort themselves out up there and downshift on us,” he said. “It's number seven now or never, love.” Rising to the challenge, he started pumping like a piston.

  Sam's eyes popped—but not for the right reason. Ninety seconds to climax, knock them out of hyperspace and launch the escape capsule? When they were already on the wrong side of exhaustion, under attack from hurtling glo-globes, the ship seemed ready to rupture around them, and the ‘orm was swinging like a hammock gone haywire?

  Optimistic, wasn't he?

  She buried her face in his neck, feeling herself go cold, even with the warmth of his body grinding into her. “There's not enough time. We'll never make it."

  "Yes, we will—because we have to. You want to escape, don't you?"

  A rhetorical question, obviously. His voice mixed in her ears with the deafening shouts of the dwarves and the rattling of the ship, while the ‘orm alternately dodged and attacked globes. God, this was like trying to make love on a bobsled barreling through a battle down a bumpy slope.

  "Of course I want to escape.” She struggled to block out the racket and motion and focus on the sex. She failed. “It's just that I find pandemonium about as titillating as a bucket of ice water down my knickers."

  "You're not wearing any knickers. If you were, I couldn't do this.” With a low growl, he revved up the thrusting. Faster—harder—deeper. “Stay with me, love. Just one more power surge. We can do this."

  How? His energy curled through her like smoke, bringing the first flush of arousal, but too late. She didn't even have the strength to sit up. She'd never be able to generate a climax in the time they had left. No time and no hope...

  "We'll do it,” he said. “Because it's the only way to escape ... Because we love each other ... And because the most erogenous zone of the human body is the brain. That would have been Lesson Two of your training, by the way, if we hadn't skipped that part. So we're going to backtrack and cover it now. Forget all else and focus on this...” He angled his head to whisper in her ear, his breath hot and his husky voice like the kiss of velvet. “Once we're free, I'm going to lick every inch of you clean, starting at your hairline and working my way—slowly—down to your toenails, pausing to pay particular attention to your luscious ripe strawberries and that delicious slit between your lovely legs."

  Wow ... The words were steamy enough, but the images he projected into her mind along with them were scorching. Her pulse soared and an electric tremor began vibrating inside her.

  "It's working,” she panted out. “Keep talking."

  "And after that, I'm going to open the classy little bar this capsule is equipped with and mix us both martinis,” he promised. “Stirred, not shaken—"

  That did it.

  She came like gangbusters. So did Deuce. The ‘orm shot straight up in the air, whirling like a drunken top. The ship shook, lurched and blasted forward, the force of the thrust knocking the spinning ‘orm backward and plastering it upright against a bulkhead, along with the crazed globes, which buzzed and crackled with the dwarves’ shouts.

  "Bloody blisterin’ blazes!” Jotto cursed. “They've over-boosted! We can't handle this speed!” He cursed again as tremors racked the hull.

  "Captain! The warp-drive's gang t’ blow! I canna hold her together much langer!” Totto squawked.

  Why did he suddenly have a Scottish accent?

  "We don't have a warp-drive, you bleedin’ idiot! It's a magno-thrust generator,” Jotto told him.

  "He's been watchin’ them old Earth videos again,” Vrotto grumbled. “I've warned him about that. The flamin’ fruit."

  "Fruit! He said fruit!” Notto screamed.

  "Someone shove a melon in his mouth.” Jotto heaved a gut-wrenching sigh.

  Bleggh belched.

  "Shove one in his mouth, too, while you're at it,” Xotto called.

  A high-pitched, tinny wail split the air, shattering eardrums—metal shrieking with stress. Bulkheads thrummed with the escalating speed, and the pressure built like a lead weight slamming down, almost collapsing Sam's lungs. Jotto barked orders, but she couldn't understand what he said—couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her head was going to explode. So was the whole ship it seemed.

  Deuce reached out beyond the ‘orm and braced his hands on the bulkhead they were flattened against, pushing back to keep his weight from crushing her more. Sweat dripped off him with the effort.

  "Hang on,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

  And she did. To him.

  The ship gave another great lurch—jarring bones, stopping hearts—straining and screaming like a mad stallion. Everything shuddered as the door between dimensions yawned open before them—a cosmic chasm sensed, if not seen. The vortex of time and space ... swirling ... whirling ... cracking apart for one blinding instant as they made the final leap ... cleared the chasm.

  And landed with a soft jolt on the other side of Eternity.

  The door slid shut behind them. A last shiver of power passed through the hull. Then the craft calmed and laughter rang out from the dwarves, their cries rolling over each other like the wild peeling of bells.

  "We made it! We made it through!"

  "I knew we could!"

  "Damn straight, we did!"

  "Blimey, this is a good ship!"

  "We're back in space-normal! Hooray!” Notto cheered. “Ow,” he added when someone slapped him.

  "What the fuck are you so happy about?” Jotto demanded. “We didn't want to leave hyper yet, you twit."

  "You're telling me. I've got to reset all the stinkin’ coordinates now. Shit.” Totto punched his console.

  Jotto punched him. “Forget the bloody coordinates for two minutes, will you? Run down the towline and make sure our cargo's intact."

  "Me?” Totto yelled. “Why do I have to do everything? Let Flotto do it."

  "I can't,” Flotto whimpered. “Me melon's still stuck."

  "So's your brain,” Vrotto told him.

  Jotto's breath blew out in an exasperated whoosh. “Well, somebody better get their arse down there to check on ‘em. That capsule they're in is a single-D traveler. It ain't fully pressurized inside for hyper-jumps."

  "Now he tells us.” Sam groaned as the ‘orm slid down the bulkhead into a horizontal position once more and the glo-globes returned to their standard serene hover-mode, all the excess power that had made things manic finally dissipated.

  A bit too much so.

  Deuce lay on her like a sack of cement, breathing, but knocked senseless by the ship's last leap. He'd carried the brunt of the work while they built up the power, and had wrapped his energy around her as a shield when they passed the dimensional door. He'd promised to take care of her and he had, but he'd drained himself in the process.

  She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close, feeling his heart beat against her chest. A regular, strong beat—normal, which was more than she could say for hers—and his breathing was normal as well. His color was good and his skin was warm. Nudging him and getting a small grunt in response, she realized he wasn't so much unconscious as he was in a deep, deep sleep. The inner bond they'd developed (and would always have now, ‘orm or no ‘orm) told her he'd be okay once he'd rested—but nothing short of a nuclear blast would wake him anytime soon. Small wonder. Even an Original Man, a genuine class-A model on all counts, had his limits.

  Good Lord, what was she supposed to do now? They still had to launch this capsule to complete the escape, and she didn't know how. Panic pressed down on her with his weight. She fought it back and forced herself to think. She had an IQ of 170, for God's sake; she ought to be able to figure this out.

  What had he said before? They could launch it with a vocal command?

  Yeah, that was it.

  Relief flooded her. Boy, that was easy. All she had to do was say the right word or words. Now what could the command be? Her brow furrowed in concentration. When they'd exited the bridge, he'd shu
t the hatch behind them by saying “Close.” So to launch the capsule maybe she should say—

  "Launch!"

  The single syllable reverberated through the cabin.

  And nothing happened.

  Shit.

  In rapid order, she tried, “Blast off! Lift off!” and “Fire rockets!"

  Crapped out on all three.

  "Disengage. Leave!"

  Nope.

  "Anchors away?"

  No, of course not.

  "Cast off? Cut the line? Abandon ship?"

  Sheesh, this was getting monotonous.

  "Move it!” she yelled. “Take us out of here, Scotty!"

  Okay, that last had been pure whimsy. She was becoming desperate. Maybe this wasn't so easy. What if she'd already gotten part of it right, but the launch command was actually several separate commands that had to be spoken in a particular sequence to make it work? She could spend hours, days even, trying to get the right phrases in the right order. And she had only minutes, at best, before the dwarves figured out what she was attempting. So far they were still arguing over who should check on her and Deuce, but that couldn't last for long.

  She paused a second to listen, her heart hammering against her ribs like a wild thing trying to escape. She knew just how it felt.

  Heavy thumps and grunts poured out the globes. It sounded like a fight had broken out. When had that started? Oh, who the hell cared?

  "Why not send Bleggh?” Xotto suggested over the din.

  Bleggh belched. His answer to everything apparently.

  Sam's stomach knotted. What if it wasn't just the command, but the voice it was spoken in? God, there was a ghastly thought. If the ship's controls were programmed to respond only to authorized vocal patterns, she'd never get the capsule launched, no matter what she said.

  "Deuce?” Hands shaking, she lifted his head to study his still face. “Will you wake up for just a minute? Please?” She gave him a little shake. His eyelids flickered open a fraction, then sank shut as though concrete blocks weighted them down.

  Right. She was on her own here. Not a new experience. Gently, Sam lowered his head back to her shoulder, grappling against the despair that clawed at her insides.

  "Never mind, baby, you just rest.” She pressed her lips to his brow. “Don't worry. I'll get us out of this.” How, she had no idea. She hadn't felt so helpless since she was that pathetic child in the orphanage, praying every night to a God who never seemed to hear. But she wasn't a child anymore. There had to be something she could do. Think...

  "Hey, Jotto, we could check ‘em through the globes,” Vrotto called. “Turn on the video, why don't you?"

  "Because I can't get no reception from the bloody things, that's why! No visual and no audio neither! Whatever happened down there knocked out the receivers."

  "Well then, one of us better go see if they're okay."

  Jotto let out a roar. “Bloody blazes! Ain't that what I've been sayin'?"

  "Yeah, but you never said why exactly. It wouldn't hurt if you'd explain yourself once in a while, you know."

  "I don't have to explain meself! I'm the captain, damn it!"

  "Says who?” several voices chorused in unison.

  Jotto roared again. “Says me, that's who!"

  Sam winced as a staccato whap-whap-whap-whap cracked out like machine gun fire. Jotto must have smacked all the challengers.

  "All right, all right, we was just asking,” Notto said.

  "Yeah, you don't have to get so huffy about it,” Xotto added.

  "Fuck a duck,” Totto cursed, sounding sullen.

  "We ain't got no ducks,” Vrotto said. “Have another melon."

  Cripes, how much crazier could things get? And how much time did she have left? Mere seconds, Sam guessed. Her head throbbed and exhaustion covered her like an iron shroud—along with Deuce, of course, who was no featherweight. Not that she was complaining. The warmth of his body was a comfort, the only comfort she had just then. And she wouldn't have it much longer the way things were going—or rather not going. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears, hugged Deuce harder, and did something she hadn't done in years.

  She prayed.

  She was that desperate.

  "Please, God, if you're listening, I need a miracle and I need it fast. I know I've already been given one"—her hold on Deuce tightened—"and I can't tell you how grateful I am for that. But I need another miracle now so I can keep him. I guess that sounds selfish, and it probably is, but I'm not asking just for myself. I'm thinking he's your miracle, too, God. He was created for something so much bigger and better than what they'd use him for on Helle—a really grand purpose. Your purpose, isn't it?” Tears streamed down her face and her voice shook.

  "I'll be honest with you, I'm not sure how good an idea that purpose is. I mean, I can't see that the human race has turned out all that well so far. But maybe that's the point, huh? That we have to keep trying until we get it right? I've always thought it was the trying that mattered most.” The tears flowed faster and she choked out the rest of the prayer through great, gulping sobs. “So will you give us the chance to try now? If you really want us to go out and do this, please, please help me make this damn thing lift off!"

  A sudden shiver shook the cabin, followed by a slight jerk, like a cork popping loose.

  Sam's eyes snapped open and her breath caught. All around her the glo-globes went dark, deflated, and drifted to the deck like an autumn flutter of dry leaves. Then like magic (or a miracle, perhaps?), the bulkheads began to glow, bathing everything with a soft silver-white light. Hidden panels slid back and control consoles popped forward. In a few blinks of her blurry eyes, the bare cabin transformed into a small space capsule. A low hum filled her ears and the hull above her turned milky translucent, then crystalline clear, revealing the diamond-studded black velvet of outer space.

  Holy...

  Her heart hitched at the sight. Holy was the word for it all right. Pure, unabashed, heavenly glory. The universe laid out before her in endless silent splendor, a vast open view of Forever. Tears streaming down her face, she stared up into it, barely able to breathe, scarcely daring to believe.

  They were launched? Free?

  Through the overhead dome she saw another craft growing smaller and smaller as the escape pod pulled away from it. Wow, would you look at that. They were launched.

  Thank God.

  She said it aloud. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, God!"

  "You're welcome, ducks. We were here to help all the time."

  "Yeah, all you had to do was ask."

  "That's the way it works, you see. We ain't allowed to help unless a person asks for it. We'd feel like we was buttin’ in otherwise. Wouldn't be polite, y'know?"

  "You dumb arse. Since when have you ever worried ‘bout bein’ polite?"

  "Me? I'm always polite, ain't I? You're the arse.” A solid whump punctuated the statement.

  Sam nearly strangled on her tongue as the overhead view of space blinked out and was replaced by a view of seven toothy grins beaming down at her. Her arms convulsed around Deuce's neck, almost strangling him, too, but since he was still senseless, he never noticed. She felt dangerously close to joining him in that state.

  She stared in horror at the dwarves. “Wh-where are you?"

  "Back off, you idiots. Quit crowdin’ the screen.” Jotto elbowed the others aside, giving her a peek at their bridge. “Where does it look like we are? On our ship, of course. And you're on yours now. Nothin’ fancy maybe, but she's a sturdy, little craft that'll get you where you need to go. You earned her fair and square, ducks, paid for her with love, courage ... and your prayer. A good one, too, one of the nicest I've ever heard—especially since you weren't sure it'd work.” His grin broadened. “But you prayed it anyway, and straight from the heart. That was the important thing. We had to launch you after that."

  They did?

  Weird chills swept her, like an army of ants marching up and
down her spine. “I ... I thought you couldn't hear me ... that the globes had been damaged."

  "They were.” Jotto's eyes twinkled, something very old, very wise and kind shining out of their depths. Also very amused. “But we can always hear an honest cry for help."

  "Yeah,” Notto piped up. “It's part of our job to answer prayers."

  It was? The ants marched faster, making Sam's skin crawl.

  "Mind you, sometimes the answer is ‘no’ or ‘not yet,'” Jotto added. “People don't always know what they really need. Sometimes they pray for things that would keep them from getting something better. Sometimes there's a price to be paid or a lesson to learn first. You developed inner strength and resourcefulness growing up alone. You'll need that for what's ahead.” The twinkle in his eye softened. “But every prayer is heard, ducks—always. Don't ever doubt it."

  "We're the Harvesters,” Flotto explained.

  "The Heavenly Harvesters,” Vrotto elaborated.

  "Some call us angels.” Xotto winked. “But you can call us friends."

  "Oh, God,” Sam said.

  Jotto chuckled. “Well, not quite that big, ducky. But we work with Her."

  "Her?” Sam's brow wrinkled. This discussion wasn't helping her headache.

  "Her. Him. Whatever.” Jotto shrugged. “It's all the same. God is God, y'know? God is Love, that's all."

  "We've been here since the Beginning,” a new voice said, solemn and low.

  Bleggh? He talked?

  Sam's eyes widened. “Um ... the beginning of what?"

  "Time. What else?"

  Right. Stupid question.

  Bleggh belched and she felt better. Everything was back on track.

  "We saw the first seeds go out and helped plant some of ‘em.” Xotto crossed his arms over his chest and looked proud.

  Sam looked confused. “Seeds?"

  "Is there an echo in here?” Notto asked.

  Jotto smacked him.

  "Seeds like Deuce's.” Flotto scratched himself as he spoke. “A bloody big fleet went out in the Beginning."

  From where, Sam wondered, but didn't dare ask.

  "Yeah, some found fertile ground and took root,” Totto told her, “but some are still floating around out here."