Dead Space

by Lee Goldberg

  The first thing he noticed was the gash on her nostril.

  "A girl with sharp fingernails like yours shouldn't pick her nose," he said, holding up his index finger. "I designated this finger as my nose finger, so I keep the nail real short and smooth."

  She grabbed the finger in her fist and wrenched it back until he yelped. "Artie blew himself up and Charlie Willis got away. That means it's up to us to kill him ourselves. You're not going to sit around picking your nose while Charlie Willis is still alive."

  "You're the same rank as me," he whimpered, "you can't give me orders."

  She wrenched his finger back until he yelped again. "Charlie Willis was the guy who chased you after you snatched Clive Odett. What if you led him to us? What do you think the Captain is going to do if he finds out?"

  Melvah let go of his finger and he yanked his hand away from her. He thought again about the Captain and his hatchet.

  "Fine, you find him, I'll kill him," Thrack said, then stuck his sore finger in his nose just to show her he still had his self-respect.

  Chapter Twenty One

  The great starship Endeavor glided through the glittering cosmos, an arrow in search of a target it would never find.

  Captain Pierce sat in his command console, leaning forward, his sharp, hawk-like eyes riveted to the front view screen. Where others saw an endless pattern of stars, he saw the future, he saw discovery, he saw humanity.

  Yeoman Cathy McNally, cheerful and eager to please, thrust a CompuClipboard in front of him. "The dutylogs, sir. They need your signature."

  He marked the CompuClipboard with a space pen. "Thank you, Yeoman."

  The Captain turned his attention back to the screen, so he didn't see the yearning in her eyes, the love-sick poutiness of her lips. She was in love with him, like so many women under his command. The Yeoman returned to her station, already impatient for another task that would allow her to speak to him again, if only for a moment.

  Mr. Snork scratched his nose and approached the command chair. "We've seen a lot of God's miracles on our voyages through space together, but I think she tops the list."

  Dr. Kelvin's computer breasts heaved in deep computation. "Scientifically speaking, there's nothing miraculous about the Yeoman. Her chemical composition is actually 94% water—"

  "Enough, doctor," Mr. Snork snapped. "There are some things science just can't explain."

  Suddenly, the ship was rocked by a tremendous turbulence and, on screen, a strange, undulating cloud appeared out of the blackness.

  "And this may be one of them now," The Captain turned to Dr. Kelvin. "Analysis?"

  "It's some sort of quantum singularity," she said. "I'm detecting huge fluctuations in guadro-gamma emissions. If it continues to grow, it could tear space itself apart."

  "Then we better stunt its growth," The Captain said. "Arm all weapons."

  The turbolift doors hissed open and an officer with six, beady, yellow eyes and two, big, horsey ears strode onto the bridge. "I don't think so, Captain."

  "Everybody down!" the Captain yelled, pushing Dr. Kelvin to the floor and whipping a gun out from its hiding place under the seat, aiming the weapon right at the alien's head.

  "Freeze you son of a bitch," the Captain said, "You so much as twitch, and I'll send you straight to hell."

  Alison dropped her script, pushed past the startled director and camera crew, and rushed onto the set. Spring Dano, Terry Bloss, and a handful of extras were laying flat on the ground, while Fred Grayson, aka security chief Zorgog, cowered in Charlie's gunsight, his flipper-hands raised. The first rehearsal of the show, and already there was trouble.

  "Charlie, what are you doing?" she asked.

  "Call security," Charlie said, looking very heroic in his polyester, Confederation uniform. "This is an assassin."

  "No, he's not," Alison said.

  "The guy with the flame-thrower was wearing the same bizarre disguise."

  "Charlie, that's Fred Grayson, he's one of the series regulars. He plays Security Chief Zorgog," Alison said. "That's the way his character looks."

  "Fred?" Charlie squinted at the man. He only met him once before, informally, at a table reading of the script in Eddie's office. "Is that you?"

  "Yes, it is," Fred said, his shaking flipper-hands still raised. He remembered what happened to the last poor guy Charlie Willis pointed a gun at on a set. "Please don't shoot me. I have a wife and kids."

  "I'm sorry," Charlie lowered the gun. "I'm terribly, terribly sorry, I didn't recognize you with all that make-up on."

  Fred backed off the set in a hurry. Charlie suddenly became aware of all the terrified actors looking up at him from the floor.

  "You can all get up now. My mistake. There's no danger. You can relax."

  The actors started to get up. Ashamed, Charlie jammed the gun in his pants and helped Spring Dano to her feet.

  "I'm so sorry, Ms. Dano," Charlie smiled politely. "I hope you'll forgive me."

  She kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you're watching out for us."

  Alison grabbed him by the arm and jerked him away from Spring.

  "Haven't you ever seen the show?" she asked him.

  "Not all the way through," Charlie admitted. "It was hard enough for me just to get through the script, especially after last night."

  Alison blushed, surprised at her embarrassment, because last night was not something she regretted - it was something she hoped to repeat as soon as possible, and as soon as she had some sleep. They spent the entire night making love, unable to sleep, their desire for one another seeming unsatiable.

  Charlie glanced back at Grayson, still in his Security Chief Zorgog outfit, yelling into his cell phone, pacing nervously. "He seems upset. Maybe I should apologize again."

  She pulled him in the opposite direction. "Don't worry about Fred, I'll take care of it. That's my job."

  "I know I made a fool of myself," Charlie said, "but the killer was in the same get-up as him. What are the odds of that?"

  "It's not that unusual."

  "You've seen people, out there in the real world, who look like him?"

  She nodded. "I can find at least fifty people dressed exactly the same way right now."

  "Where?" Charlie asked.

  * * * * * *

  Charlie Willis stood in the lobby of the Pinnacle City Marriott in his Confederation uniform, but it was Alison Sweeney, in jeans, a Donna Karan jacket and one of his shirts, who was out of place.

  The whole ride over in the golf cart from the studio, which adjoined the hotel, Charlie was concerned about going out in public dressed like a spaceman.

  "Don't worry," Alison said. "No one will notice."

  Charlie thought she was being sarcastic until he walked into the hotel. People in home-made and mail-order Confederation uniforms were everywhere, and they were easily the most conservatively dressed of the hundreds of Beyonders attending BeyondCon. There were aliens, monsters, and astronauts of all sorts, as well as plenty of Snorks, Kelvins, Glerps and, as promised, Zorgogs.

  "What is this?" Charlie asked.

  "It's BeyondCon," Alison said, "a celebration of Beyond the Beyond."

  Charlie moved cautiously through the crowd, passing a six-breasted nymph of Zontar on the arm of a Snorkian ambassador. For the first time, he found himself wondering if the Company was the only threat he should be worried about.

  "They're all crazy," he said.

  "Why do you say that?" she asked.

  "Look at how they're dressed."

  "They're dressed just like you."

  "I'm an actor playing a role."

  "Today, so are they," Alison said. "You're looking at stock-brokers and school teachers, dentists and insurance salesman. They're probably even a few cops here."

  Somehow, the idea of one of these people carrying a loaded weapon didn't give him much comfort. She saw the expression on his face and knew what he was thinking.

  "These people are intelligent, well-educated, and f
irmly in the middle class. They are the reason the show is coming back," she said. "Most of them grew up watching Beyond the Beyond. This is just their way of feeling closer to the show. Not all of them are Beyonders, you'll find a broad cross-section of scifi fans here."

  "They've modeled their lives after a TV show," he said. "To me, that qualifies as mental illness."

  "I see," she said contemplatively. "What would you think about a guy who spent his childhood watching cop shows and then became a cop because that was the one person he saw in his life who was able to make things right?"

  Charlie decided, then and there, never to talk again while making love. It was too risky. From now on, it was strictly grunts and moans and Oh Gods.

  "There's a difference," Charlie wasn't sure exactly what it was, but intuitively knew there was one. He wasn't like these people at all, except for today, that is.

  He followed her into the Grand Ballroom, which was crammed full of dealers selling all kinds of science fiction merchandise. Suspended over the crowd of Confederation officers, Snorks, SeaQuest crewmembers, Cardassians, Ewoks and Narns, was a huge replica of the starship Endeavor.

  Across the ballroom, and unseen by Charlie, Thrack of Oberon was in his polyester Confederation dress uniform, moving slowly down the crowded aisle, poking into as many space gals as he could with his super warp plasma pleasure warhead.

  He was about to bump into the rear end of a shapely Logan's Run babe when Melvah grabbed him. "Look who's here," she hissed.

  Thrack scanned the crowd and found a familiar face. "Wow, Richard Hatch still has the same cool hair-style he had in Battlestar Galactica."

  "Not him," she pulled Thrack behind a Beyond the Beyond, black-light poster display and pointed to the far end of the ballroom. "It's Charlie Willis."

  Thrack couldn't believe it. The shit-bag scum-licker was even wearing a Captain's uniform. "I'll cut his head off and use it as a bowling ball."

  "I don't care what you do," she said, "as long as he doesn't survive. Now get out of here before he sees you."

  "Relax, I blend in, like a shadow in the night" Thrack said. "I could sneak up behind him and he'd never see it coming."

  "But he'd feel it," she grabbed the hard-on that was pressed against her ass. "Do him outside."

  "Do me first," he winked and nodded toward her hand.

  "Sure," Melvah said.

  She yanked his hard-on onto the table top and smashed her fist down on it. Thrack dropped to the floor, squealing in agony.

  "You're done," Melvah said, walking away, without even noticing that she'd managed to cure him.

  Charlie and Alison left the ballroom and entered the adjoining conference hall, where hundreds of Beyond the Beyond fans gathered in front of the stage.

  The original Mr. Snork, Kent Steed, sat on stage in his faded uniform against a back-drop painted to look like the Endeavor bridge. His ragged, rubber elephant nose dangled limply on his puffy face, and he clutched a copy of his book, Call Me Mister Snork on his lap. Sitting beside him was a fat man wearing an elephant nose and a nametag that read "Warren of Eddore" who moderated the discussion.

  "I believe I was wearing a red shirt when we landed on Altair 7." Steed said.

  "What about when you landed on Naren-3?" asked someone in the audience.

  Steed stared into the audience for a long moment. "I don't remember."

  "How can you not remember?" the same someone asked, astonished.

  Warren of Eddore, sensing a problem, sputtered to life. "He doesn't remember because, as you will recall, in the previous episode his brain was invaded by neural fleas. We must assume the effects lingered for several episodes."

  "Exactly," Kent Steed mumbled, scratching the three nicotine patches under his sleeve and yearning for a quick sip from his hip flask.

  There were nods and mumbles of agreement in the audience.

  "Does anyone else have a question for our honored guest?" the Warren of Eddore asked. Sixty hands, three flippers and at least two pincers shot up. "Yes, the arthropod in the back with the orange hair."

  "In The Lofficier Maneuver, the serial number of the starship Endeavor was changed to NCE-174A," the lobster man asked. "Should it have been, NCE-174F?"

  Kent Steed and the moderator shared an uneasy glance. Steed cleared his throat.

  "That's really a question for the Captain," Steed said, "and sadly, he's not here."

  "Yes, he is," the green-skinned lady beside him cried out, already lifting Charlie's arm into the air. "This is the new guy. I saw his picture in the paper."

  All eyes, real and plastic, were on Charlie.

  "What do I do?" Charlie whispered to Alison through a gritted-teeth smile.

  "The star of Beyond the Beyond would run right up there," she smiled back. "And you are the star, aren't you?"

  This was worse than facing a killer. But with several hundred people staring at him, it was too late to back out now. Reluctantly, he climbed up on the stage and offered his hand to Kent Steed.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you," Charlie said.

  Steed shook his hand and whispered. "Can you get me a guest shot?"

  Charlie pretended not to hear him and faced the audience. "I'm Charlie Willis, and I'm very excited about portraying Captain Pierce. I hope you'll enjoy the new show. Thank you."

  There was some light applause. He started to walk away when the lobster yelled out. "You didn't answer the question."

  Charlie stopped. "I don't know the answer, I'm sorry."

  "How can you be Captain Pierce if you don't know the answer?" someone else yelled.

  "That was the old show," Charlie said. "I'm in the new show. Ask me a question about the new show and I will be glad to answer it."

  More hands, flippers, and pincers shot up. Charlie looked into the crowd, his eyes settling on a young man in a slacks, a button-down shirt, and a sport jacket. A safe bet. Charlie, relieved, pointed to him.

  "Yes, sir?" Charlie said.

  "In the last episode of Beyond the Beyond, Captain Pierce discovered that his mother might have been half-Nebulan," the young man said. "Will we discover, in the new series, that Captain Pierce is no longer entirely human?"

  Charlie had no idea. He looked at Alison, who obviously didn't know either. Everyone was staring at him, including Kent Steed and Warren of Eddore.

  "Welcome to Beyond fandom," Kent Steed muttered.

  Taking a deep breath, Charlie was about to apologize for not knowing the answer to this question, either, when a deep voice boomed out, echoing through the ballroom...

  "The darkest reaches of space. The furthest boundaries of adventure. One starship journeys into the unknown, exploring the mysteries that lie...Beyond the Beyond.

  A euphoric cheer rose up from the audience and Guy Goddard emerged from behind the back-drop in his Confederation uniform. He held up his hand and the applause instantly stopped, the audience transfixed.

  "What makes us human isn't in our genes, it's in our hearts and in our souls," he intoned, shaking his fist for emphasis, pausing meaningfully between each word. "What makes us human is the quest ... the quest for knowledge, for truth, for peace. It doesn't matter whether I have Nebulan blood in my veins. To be human is to embody humanity, no matter where you come from or how you look."

  The audience broke into thunderous applause that rumbled through the Pinnacle City Marriott like an aftershock, making it all but impossible for anybody but Charlie Willis to hear Guy Goddard say to him:

  "I'm Captain Pierce of the Confederation Starship Endeavor. Who the fuck are you?"

  Chapter Twenty Two

  All it took was one, penetrating look from Captain Pierce, and the impostor slithered off the stage like a Vidian Shit Slug. The officers in the ballroom saw through the impostor then, the truth revealed by a single gaze power-packed with all the strength and courage that made Captain Pierce a legend throughout the cosmos.

  The evil doubles were so sure of their success, they thought they could pass t
hemselves off as the real thing in front of hundreds of Confederation officers. It was laughable, really. Who did think they were dealing with? Were they hoping that Captain Rick Pierce, veteran of the bloody Umgluck wars, would just sit this fight out?

  Wake up and smell the meteor shower, boys. These space boots were made for stomping and they're gonna stomp all over you. Captain Pierce wasn't some candy-assed bureaucrat who tackled the universe from the safety of a starship bridge. No sir.

  When the Glube King wanted to destroy the Endeavor with a death beam, what did he do? Tore his shirt off, flexed his pecs, and tied the alien bastard's antennae in a bow tie around his throat. When the six-breasted Nymph of Zontar wanted to enslave the Endeavor crew, what did he do? Fucked her so good, she led her own army into a lava pit to save him. When the Dorcons reduced his crew to cubes and took over his ship, what did he do? Hit the self-destruct button. One second away from obliterating his own ship, the gutless villains surrendered. The biggest asteroids in the universe were between his legs.

  He was a legend in the Confederation because he wasn't afraid to look the enemy in the face and punch it. Diplomacy by fist, that was the Captain Pierce approach. Once they regained consciousness, then he could teach them to respect freedom, liberty and basic humanity.

  After holding the BeyondCon audience spellbound, reciting the Confederation Oath of Allegiance, Captain Pierce slipped out of the Pinnacle City Marriott through a fire escape, jamming the door closed behind him with a wedge of wood he brought along just for that purpose. He didn't want any over-zealous Confederation officers following him and jeopardizing his mission.

  Killing the alien impostors wasn't working, so it was time to find their king and make him eat his crown, then drag him back to the ship for some straight talk with Clive Odett in his own twisted language.

  It would be no problem infiltrating the alien strong-hold. The idiots sold tickets. Captain Pierce marched down the Main Street of Pinnacle City, USA to the studio tour gate. He didn't mind paying. If thirty bucks was all it cost to save the universe, it was mighty cheap.