Interstellar Caveman

by Karl Beecher

  Colin and Tyresa exchanged glances.

  “Well,” said Tyresa. “We haven’t really made any firm plans yet…”

  “… but by the looks of it,” interrupted Colin, “we’ll be pushing on as soon as I’m fit. I’ve promised to help Tyresa with her research.”

  Tyresa frowned at him. “You never promised.”

  Colin shrugged. “I have now.”

  She didn’t say anything. She just smiled gratefully.

  “That’s a shame,” said Spudge. “I’d have liked to get to know you all better.”

  “Yeah? Then why don’t you come with us?” offered Tyresa, just like that.

  Spudge was taken aback. “Come with you? You mean into space? Are you serious?”

  “Sure. We could use an A-grade technician on board. I can barely keep the old Turtle running myself. If we had you, she’d be purring like a kitten. What do you say?”

  For a moment, Spudge beamed. He looked like he’d been offered a million dollars. But then, he appeared to think it over, and his face changed. The smile melted away. He didn’t look sad, just somehow resolute.

  “That’s a very kind offer,” he said at last. “And very tempting, believe me. But I think it’s better if I stay here.”

  Tyresa looked surprised. “Here? No offence, Spudge, but what’s in it for you staying here? Being a non-believer in Abrama’s no picnic.”

  “That’s just the point,” he countered. “Things might be changing. It’s too early to say, but you coming here might have sparked off something like a… well, I don’t know what. Some kind of change.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Spudge took a moment to form his words. “You remember Colin’s words, the ones that were leaked to reporters? Well, the news went nuts over what he said about religion. But, they practically ignored all the other stuff he said. For the non-believers, it was what he said about us that really hit home. Here was an outsider standing up for us, someone who the believers thought was a prophet—and he was telling them off for mistreating us!”

  “That’s why the non-believers marched?” asked Tyresa.

  He nodded. “It was enough to spur just a handful of them to come here and make a stand. On any other occasion, the police might have made mincemeat of them. But they didn’t. They made a peaceful stand and then were allowed to go on their way. People noticed. Since then, things have been getting very interesting, very fast. Only this morning, the people who marched together suggested forming a workers’ union for non-believers. We’ve never had one of those before.”

  “That’s incredible,” said Tyresa.

  Spudge nodded. “In fact, I’ve been nominated to be a delegate from the spaceport workers.”

  “Wow! I’ll bet your boss wasn’t happy about that.”

  “Grizzel? Actually, he’s the one who nominated me.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah. I don’t quite understand it either, yet. Then, after he nominated me, he said that nothing good will come of it, and I may as well get my disappointments over and done with early in life.”

  “I think that’s just Grizzel’s way of being encouraging,” said Tyresa. “I’d say there’s a side to him you haven’t seen yet. So, are you going to accept?”

  Spudge nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, I think I will. I can’t really refuse, can I? I mean, if someone goes to the trouble of nominating me, I ought to honour that.”

  Tyresa gave him a hearty pat on the arm. “Well, congratulations.”

  Spudge smiled humbly, but his smile vanished when he set his eyes upon the bedside clock. “Oh, gosh, is that the time already? I’d better get back to work.”

  “Work?” exclaimed Colin. “You mean the miserable sods didn’t even give you a day off after that ordeal?”

  “They offered,” replied Spudge, “but it didn’t seem right to accept. After all, no harm came to me. Anyway, goodbye, to you all.”

  Spudge shook hands with Colin and Ade. At the doorway, he shared the warmest and longest handshake with Tyresa.

  “Good luck with your new path, Spudge,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll do well. You’re a remarkable man.”

  “‘Man?’” he echoed with a smirk. “I’m going to have to get used to that word. It’s all people have been calling me since yesterday.”

  The door closed behind him.

  Tyresa turned to Colin with an impressed look on her face. “Well,” she said, “it looks like you managed to help the poor, oppressed ‘natives’ after all. And without having to cheat or lie to anyone.”

  Colin felt his cheeks burn red with embarrassment. “Yes, well, like I said: I was wrong, and you were right. I suppose I’d better get used to that, if I’m going to come with you.”

  Tyresa looked at the floor and folded her arms. “You know,” she began delicately, “it’s good that you’ve offered, but you don’t have to come with me to Solo. It’s your life. It’s your choice. You know that, right?”

  “I know. But what else am I going to do? I can’t stay here, and I’ve nowhere else to go. I suppose I might as well hitch a ride with you until I find a new home.”

  “But we could drop this investigation into Solo III. Into Earth. We could jump straight to finding you a nice, quiet place to live.”

  Colin thought about it. It was very tempting to take up her offer, but he couldn’t in all conscience just walk out on her. He shook his head. “All in good time. I owe you so much, Tyresa. The least I can do is help you with your theories. And don’t forget, you’re not the only one with an interest here. I want to know what the heck happened to my planet.”

  “I can’t guarantee we’ll find out. And I can’t guarantee that Erd won’t send more people after you if we keep digging. In fact, the galaxy can be a tough place in general.” She pointed at Ade. “I can’t guarantee he and I can keep you safe.”

  There was a time, Colin reflected, that words like that would have scared him off. To be frank, it did scare him. But then, so did the idea of continuing life like he had before: safe, dull, utterly unremarkable. Perhaps now it was time to add a bit of spice, step out of his comfort zone, go exploring. Maybe even try a swingers’ party.

  After all, it was a big galaxy, and life was short.

  “Ah, well,” he said finally. “I’m sure you’ll do your best. I have faith in you.”

  44

  Brock T. Hanson Jr eagerly awaited news, pacing the floor of his office.

  Events of the last few days had left him deeply frustrated. His initial attempts to promote Colin hadn’t gone well. By now, he should have had the Conservatives eating out of his hand and begun work on winning the Moderates over to his side too. Instead, thanks to Colin’s indiscretions, Conservatives were themselves divided and Moderates further than ever from accepting Colin.

  But, of course, it never occurred to Hanson that he should write Colin off as spoiled goods and walk away. He wasn’t the type. He’d decided on something, he was going to see it through, and nobody was going to stop him.

  In any case, this was just too important to give up on. Colin Douglass was going to lead Hanson to the Promised Garden according to prophecy set forth by the Progenitor (He Who Created All Thou Can See and Not See) himself. Colin may have been met with initial scepticism, but that was always the way with prophets. In time, Colin would be remembered as one of the greats.

  True, Hanson would have to endure fame and glory for his own part in the establishment of a new order. No point crying about it; the Creator (Grant Unto Him Glory) had a plan for us all and Hanson was but a humble servant.

  The intercom on his desk buzzed. His stomach fluttered as he hurriedly took his seat and opened the channel.

  “Yes?”

  “Gunga here,” came the doctor’s voice. He sounded tired.

  “Well?”

  “Surgery on Mister Douglass is complete. You’ll be happy to know that it was a complete failure, just as you requested.”

  “Be specific, Doctor. What happened?�
�

  “I recalibrated the wave-ablator, so it emitted a frequency of ultra wave insufficient for affecting tissue—”

  “Maybe not quite so specific, then.”

  Gunga sighed. “I faked the procedure. His brain wasn’t touched. I rigged the read-outs, so none of my colleagues are suspicious.”

  Hanson felt a wave of relief. “Excellent. So his memories are intact?”

  “For now,” replied Gunga. “He still has the disease. I estimate he has about a week until it’s curtains for him.”

  “Then we’d better move quickly. I’ll get in touch with the spaceport and have them ready my ship for immediate departure. You start things your end. Arrange for Colin to be moved quickly and quietly.”

  “What about the woman? She’s not just going to stand around while we abduct Colin.”

  Good point. She’d already proved herself to be a feisty one. “Leave her to me. I’ll take her out of the picture.”

  “Understood.”

  Hanson detected the uneasiness in Gunga’s voice. “Don’t be so down, Doctor. We’re about to embark on the most important journey of our lives. We’re instigating a new dawn for our society. Praise be unto the Creator, for he has led us to this place.”

  “Via crooked steps, to be sure,” pointed out Gunga. “Did he really intend for the prophet to be sacrificed?”

  “Nobody knows the mind of our Creator better than I. This is a test of our resolve. Besides, all the best prophets die young, you know that. It’s a mercy is what it is. What kind of a prophet wants to go on living for decades after reaching his peak, growing old and wallowing in past glories? No, much better to astound the world then immediately kick the bucket. That way, your message sticks and the people never forget you.”

  “As you say,” replied Gunga.

  “Keep the faith, brother.”

  Hanson closed the channel. He felt good again. The last few days had been but a few hurdles, put in place to test his worthiness. Well, he’d cleared them, and his plans were back on track. He grabbed the tablet from his desk. There were lots of arrangements to be made.

  And then, something occurred to him. In that last conversation, he’d neglected to add the respectful suffix while referring to the Creator (Grant Unto Him Glory). That was most unlike him, and it troubled him momentarily, but he soon shook off his worries. He knew the Creator. All he would need to do is ask forgiveness, and Hanson would retain his blessing.

  It really was uncanny, Hanson thought, how the Creator (Grant Unto Him Glory) tended to agree with him on everything.

  45

  From the northern hemisphere of Procya, Solo appears as a lonely little star just off the seventh arm of the Great Octopus constellation. An insignificant little speck of light, of little note for as long as anyone could remember, it had dwelt in obscurity for untold centuries.

  And yet, at this very moment in time, the Solo star system was suddenly foremost in the mind of several human beings, each of them convinced that this forgotten, galactic backwater held vital answers for them. Here was one sun whose light would once again burn bright in history.

  Eventually, we all get our chance to shine, even stars.

  Well… stars always shine, but you get what I mean, right?

  To be continued in ‘The Faulty Prophet.’

  Notes

  Prologue

  1 A team of etymologists spent a lot of time and obscene amounts of money to come up with this name. They even won an award for their work, if you can believe that.

  Chapter 9

  1 “Close by” in this case meaning about seven billion kilometres off the starboard bow. Space really is vast.

  Chapter 12

  1 The words he might have used for the first item were ‘inflated white overalls,’ while the second item he might have described as a ‘space-age biker’s helmet.’

  Chapter 16

  1 Or, more accurately, simulated the sound of a throat clearing, seeing as he technically didn’t have a throat.

  2 Although many of those baristas were also students, so it’s likely they were counted twice in the statistics.

  Chapter 18

  1 The Transhumanist Collective was the official name of the Transhackers.

  2 NND (neucleometric nitro-decay) is an archaeological dating process you wouldn’t understand.

  Chapter 19

  1 ‘Contaminated’ being popular slang on Ceti meaning ‘suffering from a sexually transmitted infection.’

  Chapter 20

  1 The fleegat, a mouse-like creature native to the intensely competitive jungles of Delta Pavonis II, witnesses an extraordinary amount of natural horror on a daily basis. In response to the resultant high suicide rate, the fleegat’s ancestors evolved the ability to wipe their own memories at will and thus forget about the traumatic events surrounding them. However, the process destroys all memories, including the identity of the creature’s mate, hence the other popular phrase “faithful as a fleegat.”

  Chapter 21

  1 ‘Leapt out’ figuratively, of course. The signpost was immobile. The brief craze for mobile, autonomous signposts had long since been abandoned as a bad idea after many of them evolved AI of their own and started to play pranks on lost pedestrians by making themselves point in the wrong direction.

  Chapter 24

  1 In the Abraman language, the word for ‘political party’ was “washeez,” making the names of Moderates and Conservatives the Wishee Washiz and the Brayn Washiz respectively.

  Chapter 27

  1 This was literally true.

  Chapter 32

  1 An (unaccredited) institution secretly funded by True Origin Society.

  2 The Moderate Wind was a newspaper aligned with the Moderate Party.

  Chapter 34

  1 Hanson was a man so fundamentalist he once campaigned against making references to God during storms until it transpired his copy of the Holy Book had a misprint and read, ‘Speak not the Creator’s name in rain.’

  Chapter 35

  1 A trick used by the Abraman Underground was to give each operative a codename identifying a trick doable only by that operative. That way, their contacts could verify they weren’t meeting an impostor. Dad-Joke constantly told cringeworthy jokes. Other operatives included Mirror-Talk, Nose-Licker, and Fart-on-Command. The Underground weren’t altogether a sophisticated bunch, but they threw great parties.

  Chapter 36

  1 Security Force of the Erd Tourist Board, Regulations, section VIII, para. 4 stated: “Orders dispatched by superior officers to subordinate officers and relating to extraordinary actions including but not limited to assassination, mutilation, and extreme violence should be couched in ambiguous language utilising methods including but not limited to innuendo, euphemism, and sarcasm (e.g.”He has become a problem“,”I predict she’ll meet with an accident“, etc.), in order that plausible deniability for said extraordinary actions may be established by the heretofore-mentioned superior officer at a later date at heretofore-mentioned superior officer’s discretion.

  WHAT’S NEXT IN THE SERIES?

  YOU’RE READING: Interstellar Caveman

  UP NEXT: Faulty Prophet

  FROM THE PUBLISHER

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