A Swift Kick in the Asteroids

by Edward Zajac

  “Of course,” said Devon. He leaned forward. “What happens?”

  “It creates a Qason field that annihilates all life in that quadrant. And we wouldn’t want that.”

  “No, no, we wouldn’t want that.” Devon looked up at Fletcher. “Would we?”

  “No,” said Fletcher pointedly while pointing. “We most definitely would not want that.”

  “Oh, good. I was right,” said Devon. “So what do we do?”

  “I think the best thing to do would be to continue to monitor your…” Zagarat glanced over at Fletcher for assistance.

  “Shit?” Fletcher offered.

  Zagarat sighed. “That you continue to monitor your, um, effluence…”

  “Oh, trust me,” said Fletcher. “He’s not affluent at all. He’s dirt poor.”

  Zagarat sighed again. “That you continue to monitor your effluence for the next few days and see if the numbers stabilize because I have a suspicion that when the wormhole hits the transwarp field of the wave gate…”

  “The two fields will negate each other, sending the wormhole back to the hell from whence it came. Yes, yes. I see it all now.” Devon looked down at his waist. “You shall rue the day you invaded this abdomen, you wretched creatures!”

  “And eat more fiber,” Fletcher yelled after Devon’s receding form. “Aliens hate fiber.” He then slapped Zagarat hard in the back. “That was stellar. I knew you could do it.”

  “Thanks,” said Zag, feeling his face warm slightly. “Who was that anyway?”

  “That was Devon Maize. He’s, um, different. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the cockpit.”

  Fletcher was about to lead them onto a maglift when Zag noticed something disconcerting out of the corner of his eye. A rather impressive feat given that his eye was round. Margarat’s hand was bouncing up and down on her armrest. A closer observation revealed that it wasn’t just her hand; her entire body convulsed, not aggressively but constantly.

  “Actually,” said Zagarat. “I think now would be a good time for a little break.”

  Fletcher glanced down. “You’re probably right. Let me show you to your rooms.” He escorted them to their quarters. “And this is your room, Mags,” said Fletcher, pushing her inside. “It’s got everything you need. Bed, closet, viewscreen.”

  Zagarat lifted his mother out of the scooter, carrying her as gently as he might a newborn babe. In the meantime, Fletcher scurried over to the bed and pulled back the covers. Zag thanked him with a nod then laid Margarat down onto the bed, covering her with a blanket.

  “Would you like some music or a change in template?” asked Fletcher.

  “I think something a little bit more soothing would be nice,” said Zagarat.

  “Got just the thing.” Fletcher glanced up. “The Nerron Nebula.”

  The waves on the walls slowly faded, subsumed by the brilliant cosmic lights of the Nerron Nebula.

  “I always loved it here,” said Fletcher. “Sentients always think that space is bleak and desolate. But it’s so alive and vibrant. It’s a kaleidoscope of colors beyond anything most sentients could even imagine, let alone see.” He closed his eyes. “And the music.” He snapped his fingers and music filled the air. Music beyond anything Zagarat had ever heard before. Sounds, notes, melodies that filled his heart, his very soul with sheer bliss.

  “It’s… it’s beautiful,” Margarat managed to say, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Fletcher grinned. “I’m glad you like it, Mags. Now, get some rest.” He turned towards Zagarat. “Join me in the cockpit when you’re done. The maglift will take you straight there.”

  Zagarat nodded. He then pulled over a nearby chair and sat down beside his mother, cupping her hand gently in his as the music of the cosmos filled the air.

  he Aurora May rose slowly into the air with nary a sound. It rotated in midair then darted through the atmosphere, the ship coruscating in the noonday sun.

  Fletcher sat in the cockpit, watching the glory of space through the viewscreen. Most people couldn’t see its true beauty. Its brilliance. Its starkness. Its vastness. But Fletcher could. He could see all that and so much more. Often, more than he ever wanted to see.

  “So, what do you think?” Fletcher’s voice echoed in the empty room.

  “He seems nice,” uttered a female voice. “He loves his mother, which says a lot. And he was nice to Devon, which says even more. Especially since Devon can be…”

  “Difficult?” said Fletcher.

  “I was gonna say a pain in the ass.” Fletcher chuckled. “But that still doesn’t explain why you wanted him.”

  Fletcher shrugged. “I needed a tech.”

  “Yes, but you wanted him specifically. I mean, you told me to find out everything I could about him. Why? Why him?”

  Fletcher’s gaze drifted to his feet as he recalled a particularly fascinating anamnesis involving Zagarat, an alleyway, and Thugs One, Two, and Three. He had arrived in the alleyway just as the thugs were about to throttle the pathetic little tech when the most amazing thing happened; Thug One stopped mid-punch, his clenched fist quavering in mid-air. The other two thugs also seemed frozen in place, as if facing an impenetrable wall that only they could perceive. They remained that way until Fletcher shot them each in the back a moment later.

  “There’s just something about him,” said Fletcher, shrugging.

  “If you say so,” said the female voice. There was a brief pause. “You know, it’s not too late to turn back. We have plenty of credits. We can just leave and let someone else handle this.”

  Fletcher’s normally bright eyes dimmed. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “But the Shadow Dancers could handle this one. They have the resources for it. Or… or maybe Bryce could pressure the other CEOs to stop…”

  Fletcher chuckled. “You think the mega-corps are going to police themselves? The only reason they stopped last time was because of me. Even then, it was too late. Nearly half of those gentle blue giants died before I…” He sniffled, holding back tears. “There are only a handful of them left now and I’ll be damned if another Weiylan will die for Galustay.”

  “But…” The voice suddenly grew silent. “I understand. I just worry about you, that’s all.”

  “I know,” said Fletcher, placing his hand on the console. “That’s why I love ya.”

  There was another long pause before the voice said, “Now, that’s interesting.”

  “What?” said Fletcher.

  “Your tech friend is trying to access my systems.”

  “Really?” said Fletcher. “Any success?”

  “Nearly,” said the female voice, amazed. “It’s a completely foreign system to him and yet… How is he possibly doing that?”

  “I told ya,” said Fletcher, grinning. “He’s good.”

  “Too good. So, how would you like me to handle this?”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want to break his spirit. Maybe a small deterrent of some kind would be appropriate.”

  “You got it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the maglift doors opened and Zagarat emerged, wringing his hands.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Fletcher, stifling a grin.

  “No, no,” said Zagarat, dismissively. “Just a little static electricity. That’s all.” He looked up at the viewscreen. “Wait. We’re moving already?” Fletcher nodded. “Suns, you can’t even feel it. This is one amazing ship you have here, Mr. Griffin.”

  “Yep,” said Fletcher, proudly. “She’s something special, all right. And please, call me Fletcher.” He tapped the chair beside him. “Sit down. Rest a little.” Zag swiveled the chair around and sat down. “Now, you’re probably wondering why I need your help.”

  “It’s not anything illegal, is it?”

  “Whaaaat?” said Fletcher with exaggerated innocence. In fact, his acting was so bad that even a kindergartener playing the understudy to the third bicuspid in an amateur production of THE TOOTH HURTS would have rolled
his eyes and said, “Noob.” But Fletcher continued on, scoffing. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would never… Why would you think something like that?”

  “Because I did some research about you.”

  “Really?” said Fletcher, placing his elbows on his armrest and resting his chin in the palms of his hands. “And what did you find out?”

  “Enough. I found out that you have commerce contracts with nineteen of the UVAQ 20.”

  “Yeah, Homurana is still pissed about that little incident on Ursa Proxima.”

  “Why? What happened on Ursa Proxima?”

  “I’m not supposed to comment on it. It’s still an ongoing investigation. But in my defense, how was I to know that she was the king’s daughter?”

  “Who was the king’s daughter?”

  “No one.”

  “But you just said…”

  “No, I didn’t,” said Fletcher quickly. “So, what else did you find out about me?”

  Zagarat squinted in confusion but continued nonetheless. “I learned that you have thirty-five demerits for violating wave space regulations. Your wave gate fees imply that you travel extensively. All the telltale signs of a privateer.”

  He made privateer sound so iniquitous. “And what’s wrong with being a privateer?”

  “Let’s just say privateers aren’t the most honorable sents in the universe.” Zagarat’s face suddenly skewed into a horrified rictus. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” Zag held out his hands. “Please don’t kill me.” Even his pupils knelt in supplication.

  “I’m not gonna kill you,” said Fletcher, chuckling. “I’m not that sort of guy. Well… No. No, I’m not that kind of guy. But yes, I am a privateer. And yes, most privateers are of… questionable integrity. But I think you’ll find I’m not like most privateers.”

  A yellow light flashed on the main console just as a wave gate appeared off in the distance. A sentry of ships circled the gate—six light assault ships and two heavy cruisers, each festooned with a sideways eight, denoting them as property of the Magi Corporation. A spherical station sat beside the gate like a questionable mole or cold sore on the lip of the universe. Inside, a meager crew and a sophisticated mainframe controlled the wave gate and its many travelers.

  After several moments, a four-inch hologram of a Magi employee with the infinity sign on his helmet appeared above the main console.

  “Unknown ship, identify yourself.”

  “This is the Aurora May,” said Fletcher. “Magi identification code Teyga 1-1-7-9. We are transmitting our contract codes now.”

  A few uncomfortable minutes passed. “And where are you headed?”

  “Well, it all depends,” said Fletcher. “If I’ve lived a good life, I might end up in heaven. Or if CC deems otherwise I might end up in a much warmer climate. Of course, that’s all predicated on the notion that the Cosmic Creator actually exists, which I’m still kind of on the fence about. I mean, I’d like to think he or she exists, but all evidence points to the con-”

  Zagarat leaned over. “What the suns are you doing?” he said through clenched teeth.

  “What?” said Fletcher. “He asked me a question.”

  “He wants to know the ship’s destination not… whatever the suns that was.”

  “Oh, that makes more sense,” said Fletcher. He looked up at the Magi agent, who did not seem entirely amused. “We’re travelling to the Duoni Sector.”

  “For business or pleasure?” asked the guard.

  “Hey,” said Fletcher, winking. “Wherever I am, it’s always a pleasure.”

  “I see,” said the Magi rep. “Your codes are acknowledged and confirmed, Aurora May. Thank you for dealing with the Magi Corporation. Your account will be billed upon safe transit.”

  “Always a pleasure. Aurora May out.”

  Zagarat’s eyes remained on the console long after the hologram disappeared. “That was amazing. The resolution was like none I’d ever seen before.” He caressed the console in a way that was rather disconcerting. “I’m sorry I called you ugly. You are one sexy bitch.”

  “Tee-hee,” laughed a female voice overhead.

  Fletcher’s head jerked up. “Did you just titter?”

  Zagarat blinked, as if waking from a dream. “What?”

  “Nothing, nothing,” said Fletcher. “This should take a few hours so why don’t you go get some rest.”

  “But you were going to tell me about the job.”

  “There’s plenty of time for that,” said Fletcher. “Go spend some time with Mags. I’ll let you know when we arrive.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Zagarat.

  “Absolutely,” said Fletcher. “Enjoy some time together. And if there’s anything either of you need, just use the comm on the main console.”

  “Okay,” said Zagarat, pushing himself to his feet. “Thank you.” Zag walked inside the maglift, gently caressing the main circuit panel as the doors shut behind him.

  “I like him,” said the female voice overhead.

  “Yeah,” said Fletcher. “I kind of noticed that.”

  “Maybe we should keep him on full time,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind him jacking into me every once in a while.”

  Fletcher threw his arms into the air. “Seriously?”

  “What? You say things like that all the time.”

  “Yeah, but when I say it, it’s adorable. When you say it…” Fletcher shivered. “Bleh.”

  “Bleh. Are you saying I’m bleh?”

  “No, no,” said Fletcher. “You misunderstand me. You always misunderstand me.”

  “Oh, I always misunderstand you? It’s always my fault?”

  “No, it’s just…” The lights in the cockpit suddenly went out. “Oh, now you’re just being petty. Come on, Aurora. I didn’t mean it. Please turn the lights back on. Aurora? Aurora?” Fletcher sighed and fell back in his chair. “Eh, crap.”

  Moments later, the Aurora May entered the shimmering lights of the wave gate.

  ould you stop fretting? You’re worse than your father.”

  “I can’t help it,” said Zagarat, wringing his hands. “I worry about you.”

  “Well, don’t. The doctors here are going to take very good care of me.”

  “They better,” said Zagarat. “But I still think I should be there with you.”

  “You heard the doctor. No one is allowed inside the hyperbolic chamber while I’m receiving my treatments.”

  Zagarat let the “hyperbolic” statement slide. “But you’d know I was there.”

  “Stop it,” said Margarat, her tone firm and authoritative. Or, in other words, motherly. “You have work to do and so do I. I’ll see you again in a few days. Now, go help that charming young man. Do we understand each other, Zagarat Cole?”

  Ooh, first and last name. She meant business. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good,” said Margarat. “And you better take good care of my boy, handsome man, because if anything happens to him, I’ll be coming for you.”

  “Understood,” said Fletcher, saluting.

  “See you in a few days,” said Margarat. “Mom out.”

  Zagarat leaned back in his chair when the hologram fizzled from existence, rapping his fingertips on his armrest as if playing a new composition called Ode to Anxiety.

  No matter what his mother said, Zag knew he should have gone to the hospital with her. If anything went wrong, he could…

  Do what? said the devil on his shoulder, who for some strange reason was now wearing a mauve robe and smoking a pipe. Worry her back to health?

  Zag mentally glanced at the angel on his other shoulder who merely shrugged. I thought you were supposed to be on my side, thought Zagarat to the angel that was himself.

  Hey, said the angel defensively. I’m just the metaphysical personification of your own subconscious. It’s not my fault your subconscious is a whiny little bint.

  Zagarat sighed. With metaphysical friends like these, who needed enemies?

  �
�They have the best doctors on Ferali,” Fletcher reassured him. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah,” said Zagarat, his inflection a sarcasm sundae made up of sardonic flavored ice cream, a swirl of mordant whipped cream, a sprinkling of ironic shavings, and a derisive cherry on top. “I’m sure everything will work out just fine. Just like it always does.”

  “You really have to stop doing that,” said Fletcher.

  “What? Expecting the worst all the time? Trust me. I have yet to be disappointed.” Zagarat sighed again. “I wish I had some Dorian Cocoa right about now.”

  Fletcher glanced about the cockpit. “I don’t think I have any here. But I’ll buy you a cup when we get to Mayoo.”

  “Mayoo?” asked Zagarat. “Is that where we’re going?”

  “Yep,” said Fletcher. “That’s where you’re going to use your technical prowess to get me some information.”

  “What kind of information?” Fletcher shifted uneasily in his seat. Zagarat cleared his throat demonstratively. “Mr. Griffin…”

  “Fletcher,” said privateer pointedly.

  “Fletcher,” Zagarat amended. “I know you’re probably trying to protect me in some convoluted sort of way, but I really need information if I’m going to be of any use to you.”

  Fletcher held up his hands. “You’re right. You’re right. You deserve to know the truth. I have reason to believe that Augus Bent may have restarted a project that I helped end a long time ago. You don’t need to know the details, but trust me, it wasn’t good. So, I need you to access their local database and find anything linking him with the Unicorn Project, Meribell, or anything suspicious. Ideally, without anyone noticing.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that?” asked Zagarat.

  Fletcher gestured absently in the air. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

  “What do you mean, come up with something?” said Zagarat, his anxiety subsumed by utter dismay. “You mean you don’t actually have a plan for getting this information?”

  “Well, not exactly a plan,” said Fletcher. “It’s more like an idea. Ideas I can work with.”