Ship Wrecked

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Well, I’m glad one of us is happy,” he said.

  And then the Loth was upon him. One, maybe two—Cameron wasn’t sure which—tentacles were wrapped around him, pulling him closer into the Loth’s torso. He felt his breath, his very life, being squeezed from his lungs. As he was lifted out of the water, Cameron tried to move his arms and legs, but he was bundled up tight, like a big burrito.

  Through squinted eyes, Cameron watched as his head was brought closer and closer toward the Minal Loth’s gaping jaws. Dual waterfalls of mucus streamed from both sides of its horrific, over-sized mouth. Okay, finally …. this must be it. Goodbye cruel world.

  Feeling something wet lapping at the top of his head, Cameron wondered if he was being licked. Yup, definitely being licked, on the gash he’d received when he banged his head inside the HOD. As the creature licked away caked on blood, he heard and felt a deep vibration emanating out from low within the creature’s torso. Cameron had heard a similar sound a number of times before—purring. He didn’t particularly like cats. Heather had a cat that hissed and spat whenever he tried to pet her. Yeah, what he was hearing now were definitely purrs. The Loth was purring—and not eating him—yet.

  Cameron felt movement. Able to turn his head, enough to see they were on the move, they soon reached the Greely Beast’s splayed-open remains. Averting his eyes, he tried not to breathe in the foul odor wafting up around him. He heard, more than witnessed, the Loth begin to feed. All he could do was wait.

  Losing all track of time, Cameron wasn’t aware they’d left, no longer beside the dead Greely Beast, until he heard water splashing and saw the stream below him. As its tentacles moved rhythmically up and down, he realized the Loth was cleansing away blood—grizzly bits and pieces of the Greely Beast’s flesh. Then they were moving away and Cameron saw his truck and the flipped-over Tangine-Shell. As he was slowly lowered to the sandy ground, the tight grip on his body began to lessen.

  Now standing upright, Cameron’s legs bore his full weight. The Loth, still close by, retracted an appendage, then leaned far enough back so they could stare into each other’s eyes. Another tentacle was on the move—not the same one that had wrapped around him—its tip touched the side of his face then stroked his cheek. As the Loth’s purring became louder, Cameron saw something completely unexpected in its two surprisingly expressive eyes. Something he’d witnessed before in only one other individual’s eyes: love.

  Okay, I need to think this through. Cameron mentally replayed the course of events—those pertaining to the creature standing next to him. Did it originate in Retention Compartment Number 4? Cameron remembered seeing a bundle of shit, lying in the far corner. The small creature resided inside that—a cocoon of sorts, or maybe a pod. When it finally emerged, it found itself alone. Still an infant at that point, it worked only on instinct, seeking food and something else: its mother. A mother already light-years away back on Earth. Alone, among the cold hard surfaces of a highly impersonal spacecraft, the first organic being the infant Loth came into contact with was none other than himself. Oh boy, could it be true? Does the Loth actually think I am its mother?

  Cameron thought about the encyclopedia entry on “imprinting” he had read all those years ago. The famous biologist Konrad Lorenz had shown that geese could be trained to think that people, and even objects, were their parents if they saw them at just the right stage during their development. Maybe he had happened to be there at that special moment for the Minal Loth.

  Thinking about it, if that was true, then that was fine with Cameron. He’d be anything the Loth wanted him to be, as long as it didn’t include him being its breakfast, lunch, or dinner … or an afternoon snack.

  Cameron felt the copious amounts of mucus atop his head and shoulders beginning to dry and stiffen. He needed to wash the stuff off before it turned to concrete. Careful not to lose eye contact, he moved away from the creature and headed for the stream. The purring stopped, the Loth’s eyes darting back and forth with worry.

  “I’m just going over to the stream … need to get this shit of yours off my skin. Chill … okay?” Once back in the water, Cameron lowered himself, swishing water onto his head and upper body. It took some doing, but eventually the crusty mucous came free and floated away. He was able to feel his hair and skin again. The whole time he’d been cleansing off, his mind had raced. One singular phrase kept repeating—gain its trust.

  Instead of making a mad dash for his truck, or anywhere else, Cameron steadily walked back toward the quietly waiting Minal Loth. Avoiding the gore, he found a relatively clean patch of ground then sat down. It took all his nerve to nonchalantly place a hand on one of the Loth’s outstretched tentacles, giving it a couple of pats. “Friends?” he asked.

  The Loth made a series of honking noises. Leaning back, it settled into a comfortable position on a patch of sand. Within moments, the creature’s eyes closed and the rhythmic purring resumed. It was sound asleep.

  With nothing better to do at the moment, Cameron decided it was time to come up with a solid plan. He needed to think back—how he got into this crazy predicament in the first place. Things began to go south ever since he ill-fatedly decided to give a ride to a frigid-looking individual, a complete stranger, on the banks of Horton Street. Cameron shook his head; he was tired of being at the mercy of others: First an alien, with see-through membrane ears, then a damaged—perhaps sadistic—droid. And right now a ferocious, albeit intelligent, creature, pretty much at the top of the food chain. It was time he ceased merely coping in survival mode—started taking control of his life—began flipping things back in his own favor. Returning home to Earth would take intelligence, a good bit of cunning—also luck. First, he had to get back to the Primion. Let XI think he was still playing ball, which meant bringing the Loth with him. Is that even possible?

  Cameron pondered back on something the AI, Alice, had said to him, in his last conversation with her. XI does not expect you to be successful. The droid has an alternative strategy in the works, one having numerically higher odds of success. He thought about that. What could XI possibly be planning? How could a damaged droid capture a Minal Loth? Do so without killing it? He needed to speak with Alice again. He reviewed what was items were available to him. Glancing toward the overturned, and beat to shit, Tangine-Shell, Cameron inwardly conceded that that thing was a goner. He next considered his faithful F150; it still ran, but that was about it. Studying the dark trinious bundle, lying on the bank of the stream, he thought, Maybe …

  He rose to his feet, careful not to disturb the Loth. Through half-lidded eyes, the creature watched him. Casually striding over to the stream bank, Cameron sat down, and hauled the trinious bundle onto his lap and opened it up. Familiar with the half-dozen items within it, he still didn’t have a clue what they actually did. One by one, he lifted them out and placed them on the sand. Prior to today, the only item he’d unpacked was the largest one—the compacted-down Tangine-Shell. He again selected the largest item, a circular-shaped thing that was surprisingly heavy for its size; it had the circumference of a typical dinner plate. He recognized the same series of small circular indentations that were on the Tangine-Shell. Scanning the other items, all in the same dark-gray color, he found them either mostly square and cube-like or rectangular and brick-like. Each had the same inset indentations, indicating they, too, were most likely from Priopax. That makes sense. Art had informed him on the ship that Ramen pilfered the Tangine-Shell from an abandoned Priopax ship. Clearly he’d pilfered this entire bundle of stuff at the same time.

  He needed to activate each item, one-by-one, to fully discover what they were—how they could potentially help him. Cameron glanced over at the Loth. Any abrupt movement, he knew, could trigger catastrophic results. He tapped his fingers lightly on the dinner-plate-size Priopax device. Then, shrugging away his indecision, he used his fingertips, one after another, to cover the circular indentations.

  As the device began increasing in size, Cameron knew
he had to hurry. Needed to throw the thing off his lap before he was pinned beneath it. He shot a quick glance at the Loth. The creature didn’t seem to be the slightest bit interested in what he was doing. Turning his attention back to the device, he watched as it expanded out to its full-size—about the size of a standard microwave oven. He’d come back to it.

  Chapter 37

  The next item, cube-shaped, expanded out to the size of a piece of furniture. Interesting. The original, compacted size of the item didn’t directly, relationally, correspond to its eventual size once it was expanded out. It looked to be some kind of console, three-and-a-half feet in height, about four feet long, and a couple of feet in width; an interface of sorts, with a myriad of indicators and inset controls on the top. There were multiple rows, what could be buttons. Not too dissimilar to the type of thing found on the bridge of the Primion. Currently not yet powered on, he mentally put it aside. He’d come back to it.

  One by one, Cameron played with expanding the remaining compacted items. One item actually got smaller—took on a complex indeterminate. Another expanded up—something akin to a six-foot-tall standing pole. Not too dissimilar to what folks might place in their home entryways to hang coats on—a hall tree. The last item didn’t expand out at all. At first, Cameron thought the thing might be defective, perhaps broken from all the recent rough handling. But then he noticed tiny lights, blinking here and there, and that its surface was textured—had a familiar, swirling, artistic design.

  Cameron flipped the brick-sized item over in his hands until he found an enlarged circular inset. Tapping at it with a forefinger, he waited for something to happen. Nothing. Then he heard a familiar voice, “I was wondering how long it was going to take you saddle up to that there device …”

  Momentarily startled, Cameron glanced up to see a virtual old man leaning back in a wooden chair, his legs propped up on the recently expanded console unit. Dressed in a faded red-plaid flannel shirt, worn blue jeans, scuffed leather cowboy boots, and an old Stetson hat—a dark sweat-stained ring encircled the lower part of its crown—the old man scratched at silver whiskers on his chin. His bright blue eyes twinkled with good-natured humor.

  Cameron recognized the voice. “Hey there, Art.”

  “And hello to you, too, my friend.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t destroyed along with the shell,” Cameron said, gesturing toward the overturned Tangine-Shell.”

  “Destroy consciousness? Interesting.”

  Cameron watched as Art withdrew his legs from atop the console. Standing, he stretched and placed a short stalk of hay between his lips. He’s really playing- up the whole country bumpkin thing, Cameron thought.

  “The clock is ticking. Twelve hours, thirty-two minutes, and nine seconds,” Art said.

  “I know,” Cameron said, turning to look up toward the top of the mountain where the Primion could partially be seen. “I need to get moving.”

  Art walked along the bank of the nearby stream, his steps silent. Several times, some parts of Art’s virtual form became more transparent than others. But all in all, his appearance appeared exceptionally lifelike. Enough so, the Loth moved closer—seemed ready to pounce.

  “Do you mind taking a few steps more away from that console thing?” Cameron asked. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but he didn’t want it to become collateral damage either if the Loth leapt.

  Art, after moving farther away from the console, for the first time acknowledged the Minal Loth. He approached it with no hesitancy, much like he would a trusty old mare. Speaking in a calm low voice, he said, “And a good day to you, too, my multi-legged friend.” He came to a stop, several feet in front of the Loth, and, with hands on hips, said, “This truly is one incredible life form.” Looking over his shoulder at Cameron, he added, “Best you don’t underestimate it.”

  The Loth extended out a tentacle, more playful than aggressive, and swiped at the virtual cowboy. Like waving a hand through mist, Art’s 3D image momentarily disappeared then swirled back into form again.

  The Loth made several honking noises before turning toward Cameron.

  “Those honking sounds,” Art said, “you might want to take special notice of. This young Minal Loth has the equivalent mental language capacity of … let’s say … a seven-year-old human child. The Loths are highly emotional creatures. Loyal to those they care about. On the flip side, they will stop at nothing to protect themselves and those they care for. You seem to be on its good side, Cameron. Best you keep it that way.”

  Cameron nodded, not sure how one kept on the good side of a ferocious creature that all too soon would be the size of a building.

  “Can you tell me about the other items here, Art? Maybe they can be of use to me. Like, for what I need to do.”

  “And that is?”

  “Well, I’m thinking I need to take control of the ship. Deal with the XI droid … somehow. And I want to get back to Earth. Can you help me do that, Art?”

  The virtual old hayseed strolled back, resuming his seat on the rickety virtual chair behind the console. Chewing on his hay stalk, he appeared to be in deep thought. “I don’t play sides. Mentioned that before, didn’t I?”

  “I think so.”

  “Remember, I’m not, per se, an AI—nor a computer, either. I’m … we’re … more like a living consciousness that connects with technology. So perhaps not that useful for the types of things you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, the Priopax exist to learn … and learn through their existence.”

  That sparked a smile from Art. Removing the hay stalk from his lips, he pointed it at Cameron. “Tell you what; how ‘bout I give you a quick rundown on what the other Priopax devices here can do. You can come to your own conclusions then, as to their usefulness, or suitability, for your personal objectives.”

  Cameron nodded. “That works for me. So how about that boxy, microwave oven-looking-thing?”

  “Oh, yeah … that’s a necessity. Also, most subject to damage if mishandled, it’s called a Lox.”

  “What’s it do?”

  “Not so different from food replicators onboard the Primion; it’ll create just about anything you want. Of course, with a few limitations.”

  “What kind of things? What kind of limitations?”

  “Take your 2004 Ford V8 F150, sitting over there.”

  Cameron next heard a low hum, droning sound, coming from the Lox unit and quickly was followed by a cone-shaped beam of light that seemed to be scanning his truck. Back and forth the light beam vacillated. Twelve times, moving with steady precision, it traversed from forward bumper to rear bumper, and back. Then, the beam turned off and the Lox unit became still.

  “Where do you want it? You can point; thing’s fairly smart … intuitive.”

  Cameron stared at Art’s virtual form, not fully comprehending what just happened. Then, raising his arm, Cameron pointed toward an open patch of sand, ten or so feet away, and shrugged.

  The Lox unit began humming, the cone of light resumed its scanning—with the same back-and-forth movements—only now at the new location. With each back and forth swipe of the beam, a perfect replica of his old truck was progressively emerging. Just like before, it took twelve, moving back-and-forth swiping motions. There were now two completely identical 2004 Ford V8 F150 vehicles, sitting near each other.

  Cameron hurried over to his truck’s twin. He ran a hand along its side, along its hood, and down the opposite side as he circled around it. Back at the driver’s side door, he slid his hand beneath the shallow inset beneath the handle and pulled. The door resisted, rusty hinges complaining. Cameron looked inside and found, down to the minutest detail, everything he would expect to see. Taking a seat inside, he felt the familiar sag of worn springs beneath his ass. He looked over to Art, who looked amused.

  “Don’t stop now … the anticipation is killing me,” the old man said.

  Cameron turned the ignition key. As the big V8 roared to life, he could smell e
xhaust fumes, wafting-in from the rear of the vehicle. He then shut off the engine and climbed back out. Leaning against the side of the truck, he shook his head. “That’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.”

  “Your second question … the limitations?” Art continued, “Don’t try using the Lox on organic life. Results aren’t pretty, plus it’s just plain unethical. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “There are certain size limitations, too. The size, and overall complexity of that truck of yours, was no problem. Easy-peasy. But don’t expect you can replicate something the size of, and with the complexity of, the Primion. Play around with it. After a little trial and error, you’ll see what is possible and what’s not possible. And there are some variant settings too … like time durations. Replicated items don’t need to be permanent. Like I said, play with it.”

  Cameron’s mind was buzzing—the numerous possibilities—but he forced himself to move on. “How about that console next to you?”

  Art scooted his chair in, signaling Cameron to come closer. “It has a technical name, but let’s just call it an inter-dimensional scope.” He tapped a small touchpad in the upper right corner of the board. The console immediately came alive, emitting lights and a variety of raised virtual projections.

  About as complex a thing as Cameron had ever witnessed, he asked, “Uh, does this thing come with an operator’s manual?”

  “Sort of. Each of these items has the ability to verbally … sometimes visually … interface. Talk to them. Ask questions … Don’t be shy.”

  “Okay. So what exactly does this inter-dimensional scope-thing do?”

  Art sat up straighter, studying him. “You know, of course, that I’m not actually sitting here in front of you, right?”