by E M Gale
“Yeah.” Cliff sniffed. “It’s almost as bad as the attack where we lost…”
‘He is talking about the attack before they arrived on Ragnarok IV, isn’t he?’
Cliff looked troubled so I changed the subject. “What will the captain do with the surrenderees?”
“Surrenderees? You mean the prisoners?”
I nodded.
“We’ll ransom them back at Tortuga,” said Petey.
“Really? Is that wise? Surely we don’t want to send them back.”
“Oh, are you advocating killing them in cold blood?” asked Stonewall, frowning.
“No!” I shook my head. “Of course not.”
Petey chuckled. “It’s all they deserve, but far less profitable, so they get spared,” he said.
“They got a weird escrow auction system there for auctioning back pirates,” said Grom.
“Escrow? What’s that mean?”
“You dump your hostages at Tortuga, and they ransom them back to the pirates who attacked you. The escrow agents do the trade and handover for a twenty percent cut,” said Grom.
‘Oh, sounds like a piratical eBay. Hehe, Pirate eBay. Piraty Bay?’
“For a twenty-five percent cut they’ll auction them to the highest bidder,” said Petey. I shuddered.
“Guys, I want you to promise me something,” I said. They looked at me, concerned. “Please stake me if I get put up for auction to the highest bidder there.” They burst out laughing at that. The technicians looked over. “Or rescue me, that’d be better.” I nodded to myself.
“Got a few enemies out there, have you, Clarke?” said Petey. He looked amused.
‘Huh. Well, I don’t know, but I certainly don’t want to be sold to anyone.’
“What if we rescue you by bidding on you?” asked Grom, with a twinkle in his eye. “You could work it off. I could use a maid. You’d look good all dressed up like a French maid.”
“I’d stake myself,” I said darkly. He laughed.
“Anyway, Clarke, we’re putting a movie on tonight, you wanna come?” asked Cliff.
‘Well, I’m not up to anything much.’
“What’s it about?” I asked.
“It’s one of yours,” said Cliff, all eagerness.
‘My future self makes movies?’
“It’s about the Etrusian war.”
‘Not an Orc-Vampire War then?’
“Uh-huh, and I fought in this one then?” I asked with a grin.
“Of course you did, Clarke! I’m sure that you remember!”
I sighed. “So… am I a good guy or a bad guy in this movie?”
“Good guy, I think…” Cliff looked round to the others. They nodded. He sniffed. “Yeah, good guy.”
“It’s more flattering than the Bond movie,” said Grom.
‘Eh? They still make James Bond movies?’
“Which one?”
“You Only Die Once,” said Stonewall.
“Yeah that’s a great movie,” said Cliff, all eager. He obviously had a thing about old movies. I liked old movies too, by which I meant black and whites in a hard-boiled style.
“Not that it’s you, of course,” he said, blushing. “The villain is a female vampire with curly black hair, who happens to be the vampires’ general, so she’s kinda based on you.”
‘I’m a Bond villain. How awful.’
“Subtle,” I said. “Hey, does Bond get it on with the villain?”
Cliff nodded. “But he ends up with the sexy American spy.”
I nodded.
‘The bad girl is always the first lay of a Bond movie; I suppose he can’t celebrate vanquishing bad guys by sleeping with them.’
“But in this movie you’re a good guy. Not the main character, but a good guy,” continued Cliff.
‘Riiight.’
“Y’know I find it really weird watching movies about myself,” I said.
‘Well, I’ve not tried it, but I find the idea weird.’
“They’re usually so annoyingly inaccurate,” I added, doing a bit of impersonating of my future self.
They nodded.
‘Oh, what the hell.’
“I’ll give it a go. So long as you don’t mind me criticising it.”
Cliff nodded.
“Or shouting at the screen. I can get quite into movies, you know.”
He sniffed perfunctorily. “Yeah, sure.”
* * *
So after my shift and a shower, I got myself a beer from the mercenary bar, followed them up to a sims room and leaned against the wall at the back. They mostly sprawled on the floor, since everyone was too lazy to bring chairs in. The adverts were unskippable and way more intense than twentieth-century ones. They used the same direct brainwave stimulation as the sims did, so for a few minutes, I really wanted a soda and fake-cheese corn snacks. The movie itself was too old for that sort of tech, so the film was projected on to the sims room wall.
The film was done in a disaster-movie style, so the camera followed each of the characters in turn and I guessed at some point they all met up.
‘Oh, and look, there’s me.’
“Gargh!” I exclaimed.
Cliff turned round to look at me.
“What’s with the teeth?”
The actress on screen was obviously supposed to be me, since she had black curly hair, blue contact lenses and fake vampire teeth. The teeth were about an inch long and sticking out of her mouth even when it was shut. They made her look a little slack-jawed and simple rather than scary.
“I don’t look like that!” I exclaimed.
Cliff chuckled.
“And she’s so pale! I’m not that pale!” It looked like they’d covered her in white stage makeup–she looked more like alabaster than a normal pale-skinned person, and I swore slightly pearlescent.
“Well, you are pretty pale, Clarke,” said Wright.
‘Meh.’
“Not that pale. And my teeth aren’t that prominent!”
“It’s so the audience know that you’re a vampire,” said Cliff. “All vampires have teeth like that.”
“What, in the movies?”
He nodded.
“Huh, realism. Aren’t I missing the cape or the corset or whatever?”
“I’m sure they’ll squeeze her into a corset at some point,” said Petey.
“And is that supposed to be a military uniform? Why is mine different from all the others?”
Petey laughed. The on-screen Clarke was wearing a very low-cut, tight top and very tight trousers both in a completely different colour to the other uniforms, but she had badges of rank pinned on the top as if it were a normal uniform. None of the other characters seemed to mind that her uniform was obviously custom-made. What she was wearing was practically a ruby-red skin suit–the other characters were wearing a more standard trousers, shirt and jacket uniform in grey and green or grey and blue.
“Looks uncomfortable,” I commented.
On screen the voluptuous and overly vampiric character wandered into a lab.
‘Oh, hold on.’
“Rob!” I exclaimed.
Cliff nodded. “The Great Engineer is a character in this too,” he said.
‘Is this that war? The war where his spaceship was lost?’
“How’s my great engineer tonight?” purred the on-screen Clarke in a husky voice.
The actor playing Rob turned around. He was older, about fifty, and sexy in a Richard Gere kind of way. He smiled and caressed the on-screen Clarke’s cheek before pulling her in for a kiss.
‘Eh? Are we lovers then, or is that just cinematic license? And how do you kiss someone with such huge teeth? Why would you want to, wouldn’t you spend your whole time staring at them?’
“Fine. The Icarus is nearly ready to be launched,” said Rob’s character on-screen.
“You can’t call it that! It’s unlucky!” she said breathily. The cameraman had made sure that he’d gotten her heaving chest in the shot.
&nb
sp; “Officially it’s called ‘Moon Base One’. ‘Icarus’ is just its working name. But it’s not unlucky, we aren’t ancient Greeks.”
“No,” said the on-screen Clarke, smiling, “ancient Egyptian.”
“I’m not Egyptian,” I said.
“I thought you were an ancient Egyptian priestess,” said Cliff, turning round.
“What? I’m not that old!” I exclaimed.
On screen Rob was in the middle of a speech. The on-screen Clarke was gazing at him adoringly.
“Mankind has come so far that to name something after Icarus is a homage to his attempts at practical science. Icarus may have died, but he died for science, for knowledge.” Heroic music swelled under Rob’s character’s words. “Only now can scientists soar on the wings of their ambition and not be brought down to Earth.”
‘Oh, I don’t think I like this.’
“Icarus was an idiot,” I mumbled.
The movie cut away to the hero, a young fighter pilot. We’d watched him kiss his girlfriend goodbye at the start, now we saw him chatting with the other fighter pilots.
“They’re all gonna die, aren’t they?” I said.
“Hey, I thought you haven’t seen this movie before,” said Cliff.
“Huh, I’ve seen a hell of a lot of action movies, you know.”
Then we saw the bridge of a starship. There were several high-ranking military officers and Clarke. She didn’t seem to be doing anything but chewing on her lip.
“That’s a bloody inappropriate uniform,” I said. I noticed that they had not shown a single other woman in uniform. Maybe she was wearing the female uniform and since most military women didn’t like looking like an adolescent’s wet dream, they’d left.
Then the movie cross-faded back to the fighter pilots. They were flying in a flat triangular formation when shots came from above, destroying a few. A dogfight ensued with lots of explosions and the odd cut-back to the bridge of the starship, where the on-screen Clarke seemed to spend a lot of time looking worried and leaning over radar screens, with the camera practically in her cleavage. The battle over, the lone fighter pilot pulled a few stunts to crash the enemy spaceships into each other and a nearby moon before coming back to the ship.
“There’s only one left!” exclaimed on-screen Clarke, looking around at the male officers in consternation.
“Oh, honestly,” I said. “I’m not that fluffy.”
The pilot stormed on to the bridge.
“Damn stupid idea,” he yelled at Clarke.
‘Eh?’
“They call you a military genius! You got my wing killed!”
“Now hold on there, son,” said one of the other officers. “Don’t you insult General Clarke.”
‘General? Is that what that badge of rank precariously balanced on that thin top is supposed to be?’
“She’s far too busy breathing deeply to stretch that top to be leading anyone,” I remarked drily. The marines laughed.
The hero had stormed off and thought that his military career was ended. There were more battle scenes. The hero got drafted in and the plucky humans were finally winning the fight against the technologically advanced foe that outnumbered them. Rob’s ship had been launched and we’d had the scene where on-screen Clarke waved him off. I felt a deep dread.
‘They’re going to put Rob’s death in the movie. I only know sparse details. What will it be like to watch it?’
The movie cut to the Icarus. The ship hadn’t been renamed.
“Bad name that,” I remarked.
On the screen Rob was talking to Clarke via video link. “If it goes well, we can take out most of their remaining forces.”
“It’s dangerous, Rob! Your ship is just a prototype! You haven’t tested it properly! Please be more careful!” said on-screen Clarke.
“No one does science by being careful.”
“This sounds awfully familiar,” I said.
“If I don’t do this, you’ll have to win this war incredibly outnumbered,” he said.
“Don’t do it, Rob! It’s too dangerous! I don’t want to lose you!” said on-screen Clarke.
“It’s the only way we’ll win this war!” said Rob heroically.
“Rob! I order you to stay where you are. You are not to go anywhere near the battle,” said the on-screen Clarke, for the first time showing some backbone rather than some chest.
Rob smiled and nodded at her.
‘He’s not gonna obey that, is he?’
The scene cut to the final battle. The alien fleet was assembled and they dwarfed the rag-tag human fleet piloted by the characters who had survived the first three-quarters of the movie. The camera panned round to show Clarke standing on the biggest ship, the ‘Earth’s Hope’.
“Their flagship’s not there,” said one of the officers.
“Maybe they are so confident of victory that they don’t need it,” said another as the on-screen Clarke nodded, purely, it seemed, to set off jiggling.
The movie cut back to Rob giving the order to move.
“But… sir, we were ordered not to move from this spot by General Clarke,” said a character who wasn’t important enough to be given a name.
“There is a war, gentlemen,” said Rob to the bridge of his ship. The heroic music started up again. “We cannot sit here and let the aliens win! We must fight.”
In the next scene the Icarus appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the alien fleet.
“Rob!” screamed the on-screen Clarke at a screen on the bridge of the Earth’s Hope. “I ordered you not to move!”
Rob’s character smiled heroically. “I’m not military personnel; you can’t order me to do anything! Anyway, you need me here.”
The on-screen Clarke just smiled at him adoringly.
The scene cut away to more battle scenes with Rob’s ship surrounded.
“OK, let’s try the new weapon,” his character said.
There were various interesting hums, then it became apparent that something was about to go wrong. I dug my nails into my palms. This was all speculation. No one knew why the ship had blown up, or whether it was intentional or accidental. The consensus was accidental, probably something to do with the teleport-drive malfunctioning.
“Oh, no!” said Rob’s character.
The scene cut away to a huge explosion in the middle of the alien fleet. About half their fleet was destroyed. Then there was a poignant shot of the name tag ‘Icarus’ floating amongst the debris.
I looked down. Since I was at the back of the room, none of the marines could see me.
‘Bloody hell Rob, why would you do something so stupid?’
‘Why did the ship explode?’
‘Can I prevent him from getting on it in the first place?’
The on-screen Clarke was hysterical. The hero had appeared on the bridge having returned after flying around in the battle.
“General Clarke! Calm down. We need orders,” he said.
“How can I be calm? Search the debris! There must be a life-pod! He must have gotten out!”
“General Clarke,” said the hero. “He made the ultimate sacrifice. We can easily win this war now.” The on-screen Clarke nodded slowly through her tears.
“We have won!” said one, pointing. The remaining enemy fleet was retreating back.
“Follow them. Now’s our chance to wipe them out,” said one of the officers.
The on-screen Clarke dried her eyes and looked at the screen. She frowned and the camera zoomed in on her.
“Stop! It’s a trap!” she said.
“What?” said the officer.
“Fire long-range missiles at this coordinate!” The on-screen Clarke pointed at a random position in space. “That is an order!”
‘Damn, Rob. Is that it? Is that how you die? In such a stupid way? Even if you were a vampire you couldn’t survive that.’
“I don’t understand,” said the officer.
The camera panned round to the hero. “You’re n
ot thinking three-dimensionally!” he exclaimed. “Fire where she says! The flagship is there.”
‘Why did you have to move that bloody ship into the middle of the enemy fleet? Did they blow it up?’
More explosions. I thought it was the movie set-piece. I wasn’t really watching at this point. There was a shot of everyone celebrating, then the camera panned round on Clarke, staring out at the stars.
“Why did you leave me behind?” she said. “What use is immortality alone?”
The camera panned back to the hero proposing to his girlfriend, and then the movie ended.
‘Shit.’
I walked out of the room.
‘Poor Rob.’
“Probably not the best choice of movies, I think,” Stonewall said back in the sims room.
“Really?” said Cliff. “It was a hundred and fifty years ago… I didn’t think…”
I shook my head and stalked off up the corridor before any of the marines came out to find me.
And, as I was hurrying back to my quarters, I bumped into Rob.
“Hi, Clarke,” he said with a fading grin. “Are you OK?”
I just looked at him.
‘Dammit, Rob, why?’
‘What happens to that bloody spaceship? Can I find a way for him to avoid his fate?’
I stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace, saying nothing, just crying. He was stunned, then I felt his arms wrap around me.
“Damn you, Rob. Damn you,” I muttered.
‘This is stupid, I’m probably just freaking him out.’
I hugged him a bit longer, and then I pulled back and glared at him. He looked shocked.
“What have I done?”
I sighed and shook my head. “Nothing.” I walked away.
He ran after me. “Are you OK, Clarke?”
“Yes, fine,” I replied, not meeting his eyes.
“Huh, well, you don’t look fine,” he said, following me. We arrived at my quarters.
“I am fine.” I stormed in and shut the door on him.
‘Damn, damn, damn! Why does he die like that?’
“Clarke?” said Rob on the other side of the door. I looked out at the stars.
‘’Why did you leave me behind?’ that stupid actress said. I think the sentiment is more, ‘Why did you die?’’
He knocked again. I sighed.
‘What am I going to do? Brood in my room about Rob’s death in the future whilst ignoring him in the present? I can’t tell him anything now. Can I? No, no one would want to know how they die. I have to bear this alone.’
