Space Team: Return of the Dead Guy

by Barry J. Hutchison

  Lily’s hand was still in his. He had no intention of letting it go.

  “Controls are back,” Loren announced. “What do we do? Jump back out of here and leave them to it?”

  Lily shook her head. “That won’t work. There’s no saying they’ll stay here. They could spread everywhere, only now there’d be two of them.”

  Cal pointed to the screen. “That one wants that one to go back to the Void. Once it’s got it there, it can keep it locked up. We just need to help it.”

  “And how are we supposed to do that?” Lily asked.

  Cal squeezed Lily’s hand for a moment. Then, reluctantly, he released his grip. “You’d better strap yourself in,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, exactly.”

  On screen, the cosmic clouds wrestled and fought. Lily was right. They wouldn’t stay here for long. There was no time to lose.

  “Kevin,” Cal said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Fire the Omega Cannon.”

  Loren spun in her chair. “What? I thought we’d agreed it was too dangerous? It could blow up the entire… Oh. Oh, right.”

  “Yep,” said Cal. “That’s what I’m counting on.” He gave her a nod that he hoped was in some way reassuring, then raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Full beam. Or, you know, whatever it is. Is it a beam?”

  “No idea, sir,” said Kevin.

  “Well, give it all you’ve got, anyway.”

  There was a few seconds of silence, then the faint background humming of the Untitled changed, becoming a little higher in pitch.

  The lights dimmed.

  “Are you quite sure about this, sir?” asked Kevin.

  “No. No, I am not,” said Cal. He clenched a fist. “Now, fire!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Mech’s eyelids snapped open. Someone was elbow deep in his chest which was, cyborg or otherwise, never a nice thing to wake up to.

  He couldn’t move his head to see, but from the leisureliness of their movements and the sound they were making – a relaxed humming below their breath – whoever was in there was in no great rush.

  A face leaned into view, concern written on every furry line of it. “Hey. Is he… Are you awake?” Miz asked.

  Another face leaned in, too. It was Dorothy out of the Golden Girls.

  Mech tried to answer Miz’s question, but as two wires sparked together he, quite inexplicably, shouted, “Puffle flumps,” in a loud voice, before spasming violently.

  “Sorry, that was my fault,” said the owner of the arms that were currently messing around inside him. It was a young voice. A child, he thought.

  A child was twisting his wires back together.

  Oh, fonk.

  There were some more sparks, followed by another puff or two of smoke. The list of error messages and damage reports in Mech’s field of vision halved, then halved again.

  Then doubled.

  Then dropped right down to three, none of them critical.

  “There. All done,” said the kid, jumping up. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll do.”

  Mech tried sitting up, knowing that there was no way it was going to work.

  It worked.

  The movement brought him eye to eye with a skinny bald kid with dark orange skin and some kind of screwdriver tucked behind his ear.

  “How…? How did you do that?” Mech asked. And it was Mech, too. Not a super-intelligent or super-strong version, but regular vanilla Mech.

  The boy shrugged. “Wasn’t hard,” he said. “Besides, you saved my dad, so I wasn’t going to just let you die.”

  “He’s kind of a genius,” said Gluk Disselpoof, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He smiled, proudly. “Only without the ‘kind of’ part.”

  Mech stared up at Gluk for a few long seconds, then shifted his gaze to the boy. “Your son? He’s your son.”

  “He is. Thirk Disselpoof. My eldest.”

  Mech blinked slowly, taking in every detail of the boy’s face. “Thirk Disselpoof,” he said.

  Hydraulics whirring, Mech got to his feet. He held a hand out to the boy. “It is a real pleasure to meet you, son.”

  Thirk took the hand, turned it over in his, then made a tiny adjustment to one of the fingers. “Sorry, that was bothering me,” he said, then he threw his arms around Mech’s waist, and hugged him.

  Two other children appeared from the crowd. Thirk’s brother and sister, by the looks of them. They piled on around their brother, each holding onto one of Mech’s legs. He patted them on the back, uncertainly at first, but his confidence growing.

  “You saved our daddy,” the girl said, her cherubic face angled up towards Mech’s. “Thank you, Mr Robot.”

  “I ain’t a…” Mech began, but then he sighed, shook his head and smiled. “Any time, kid. Any time.”

  * * *

  The Omega Cannon began its charge, flickering the lights aboard the Untitled as it drew power from the warp disk. It scrambled systems, recalibrated controls, and completely erased banoffee pie from the replicator memory banks. Fortunately, Cal wasn’t aware of that last one, or it’d have put a real fonking downer on what had already been a less than enjoyable experience.

  As the ship shuddered, Cal, Loren and Lily all gripped their arm rests, and gritted their teeth. “Here goes,” said Cal.

  “Firing Omega Cannon,” said Kevin. “Now!”

  Nothing happened.

  “Oh, no wait, that’s the bathroom lights,” said Kevin. “Nnnnn… Hang on. No, that’s not it, either.”

  Cal rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Kevin, just shoot the fonking thing!”

  “Now!” said Kevin, and the lights flickered as the Omega Cannon activated.

  Cal stretched up in his seat, trying to get a better view. “Where is it?” he asked. “Nothing’s happening.”

  “Wait, look,” said Loren, pointing ahead. A small white dot, no bigger than a beach ball, glided away from the Untitled at what, at most, could be described as ‘a leisurely pace’. All three occupants of the bridge watched it in silence as it drifted aimlessly, sort of in the direction of the battling cosmic beings, but also a bit to the left.

  “That’s it?” said Cal. “Seriously? That’s the Omega Cannon?”

  “Well, I mean, I never said it would definitely destroy the universe,” Kevin pointed out. “I just said it might.”

  Cal gestured to the now barely egg-sized speck in the middle distance. “The universe? That thing could barely knock down a bowling pin. Why do we even have that gun? It is literally the worst gun I’ve ever—”

  The rest of the sentence was muffled by the sound of the universe collapsing. It happened quite quickly, in the end. The little white ball became a smaller ball, then smaller still.

  Then it became nothing.

  Then a black ball.

  Then a howling vortex of absolute destruction.

  Reality shattered. Time snapped. Cal blew a little bubble of snot from his nose, but thankfully nobody noticed.

  “OK, I take that back,” Cal said. “Loren, get us away from the space hole. Lily, can we jump?”

  “One sec,” Lily said, fumbling with her doohickey as Loren hit the thrusters. The Untitled stuttered forwards, alternating between existing, not existing, and existing in several places at the same time.

  Miraculously, Cal didn’t throw up. Although, he did come close.

  The universe continued to collapse, revealing more and more of the vast, empty Void. Cal saw one of the big weird space things try to pull away, but the other wrapped around it, pinning it in place as it waited for the Void to consume them.

  “Any time you’re ready would be good,” said Cal, shooting Lily a nervous glance.

  “One second!”

  A jagged tear ripped across space, tearing the sun in two. Over on the right, the planet that had never got around to becoming Earth became dust, then atoms, then nothing at all.

  “Cutting it kind of fine, here!” Cal warned.

  “
Got it!” said Lily.

  She tapped a button. The clamps on the Untitled’s wings burst into life.

  And then everything took a sudden jump sideways.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Cal and Lily walked up a long hill, their boots scraping on the unmoving grass. In one hand, Lily held flowers. In the other, she held Cal’s. Or let Cal hold hers, at least.

  They moved between the gravestones, beneath a motionless sky. They both had things to say, but neither knew quite how to say them, and so they walked on in silence, until they reached the spot they were looking for.

  A cybernetically-enhanced cannibal lay on his side on the ground. Beside him, the former president of the galaxy was staring down and leering unpleasantly.

  Lily pointed at them both in turn. “Should I ask?” she said.

  Cal did a double-take, as if just seeing the men for the first time. “What? Oh, no. No, I’ll take care of that later,” he said, then he stopped at the foot of his wife and daughter’s grave, and nodded at the slab of black granite.

  Lily hesitated, but then stepped on past him, holding the flowers out like some kind of peace offering. She set them down, propped up against the stone, then gave a little yelp of surprise.

  “Hey, Miss Flopsy,” she said, picking up the threadbare rabbit toy. “God, I remember this.”

  Cal’s jaw tightened. “You should take it,” he said. “It’s yours.”

  Lily brushed the rabbit’s fur with her fingertips, straightened its ears, then set it back on the ground. “No,” she said. “It’s hers. Your Lily, I mean.”

  Cal nodded and smiled, but without the smiling part. “She loved that stupid bunny.”

  “I know. So did I.”

  They stood in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts. Down the hill, keeping their distance, Mech, Loren and Miz waited with the Carver Council. None of them spoke. There weren’t a whole lot of words that fit the situation.

  “You’re not her, are you?” Cal said, at last. “Not mine, I mean.”

  It seemed to take a long time for Lily to shake her head. “No. I’m not her. And you’re not him.”

  Cal felt an overwhelming urge to apologize to her for that. More than anything, he wanted to be him. He wanted to be her father.

  But he wasn’t. Not really.

  And that was that.

  “He would’ve been so proud of you,” Cal said. “I mean, obviously I never met the guy, but still. I think I speak from experience.” He met her eye and smiled. “So proud of you.”

  Lily shrugged, but smiled. Her eyes glistened, and she quickly swallowed, composing herself. “You know, I think he might?” she said. She turned to him and took both his hands in her own. “And your daughter would have been proud of you, too. I’m proud of you, Cal Carver.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘Ninety-Nine’?”

  Lily’s grin broadened. Cal recognized his own smile in there. “I think we can let that go, just this once,” she said.

  With a wave of her hand, she gestured for the council. After a final lingering look at the headstone, she made her way down the hill, with Cal following. They met the other group halfway down.

  “Everything OK?” asked Loren.

  Cal nodded. “Fine. It’s, yeah. It’s fine.”

  “At musto bin an awfy time fur ye,” said Eighty-Three, nodding up the hill. “Fit’s ae twa loons daein? Fys that ‘een oanna flair?”

  Cal’s eyes darted around the rest of the group. Everyone, with the exception of Eighty-Three himself, shrugged.

  “Right!” said Cal. “Good point, well made.”

  Number Two bowed his head. “You know a position will always be available for you on the council,” he said.

  Cal frowned. “Wait, you’re keeping the band together? I thought, with Ikumordo gone…”

  “There will be other threats to the multi-verse,” Two said. “Many of us will return home to our own universes now, but when reality is in danger, the Carver Council will reassemble.”

  “Holy shizz, that’s awesome,” said Cal. “I’m totally getting that made up as a t-shirt.”

  He shook the man’s hand, then fired off a salute to Old Man Carver and some of the others. Two tapped a doohickey and a couple of portal doors opened behind the group.

  “Wait!” said Cal. “What about the time thing?” He gestured around. “I mean, when does the world restart?”

  “We’ll set it to start running again a few minutes after we leave,” said Lily.

  A smirk spread across Cal’s face. “Can you set it for, like, three hours?”

  “Why?” asked Mech. His dial was still missing, along with most of his chest, but he’d already started printing a new and improved replacement from the Untitled’s stock of Durium. “What’s the point?”

  “You’ll see,” said Cal.

  The other Carvers all nodded, saluted and waved their farewells, then vanished through the doorway. Lily hung back until there was no one else left.

  “Well, uh, take care,” she said.

  “You, too,” said Cal.

  They nodded at each other. Miz sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fonk’s sake, just hug, already,” she muttered.

  And they did.

  And it was awesome.

  Mech ground his teeth together. On his shoulder, Splurt shot him a sideways look. “What?” Mech croaked. “I got something in my eye, that’s all.”

  Splurt rippled.

  “Yeah, well fonk you,” Mech said, but then he reached up, rubbed the little goo-ball on the head, and sniffed back an oily tear.

  Cal stopped Lily again before she could duck through the door. “Will I, you know, will I see you again?” he asked.

  Lily looked back at the doorway, then up at the sky, considering this. At last, she winked. “It’s a Lily Carver guarantee,” she said, then she stepped through the doorway, and vanished.

  Silence hung over the group for a while, no one quite knowing what to say. In the end, Loren went for the obvious.

  “You OK?”

  Cal made a weighing motion with his hands. “Ups and downs, I’ll be honest,” he said. He looked across the faces of the crew. “Sorry I never told you. About… you know.”

  “Yeah, we know,” said Loren. “And you didn’t have to.”

  “I did,” said Cal. “I should have. You guys are family.”

  There was a loud honking sort of noise, as Mech burst into tears. The patches of skin that made up his face reddened as everyone turned to look at him. “It’s the new wiring,” he said, pointing to his chest. “That kid must’ve done it wrong.”

  Cal patted the cyborg on the shoulder. “Yeah, buddy. I guess that must be it.”

  He looked up the hill. Sinclair still stood there, frozen to the spot. “Come on,” Cal said. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” asked Miz. “You’re not, like, just leaving Sinclair there, are you? You’re not letting him get away?”

  “No!” said Cal. “Of course not. I just want to visit a t-shirt printing store first.”

  Mech grunted. “You ain’t seriously getting that ‘Carver Council Assemble’ shizz printed, are you?”

  “Tempting,” said Cal. “But no. That just gave me the idea.”

  There was a spring in his step as he shot one final glance back up the hill. “A fonking excellent idea.”

  They continued on towards the Untitled, which stood in the street just beyond the cemetery gates. “So,” Loren asked, glancing back at Miz, Mech and Splurt. “What happened to you guys when we were gone? Meet anyone interesting?”

  Miz and Mech swapped looks.

  “One or two,” said Mech.

  They looked down at Loren’s stomach. “Maybe three,” said Miz

  And they all headed into the Untitled.

  Together.

  * * *

  The former president, Hayel Sinclair, frowned.

  “What? Where…? Where did he go?” he asked. He spun on the spot, head twisting left and
right. Carver had been right there a moment ago, pinned beneath the weight of the Butcher. Now, though, he was nowhere to be seen. “Where did he go?”

  That wasn’t all that had changed, Sinclair realized. He was wearing a hat. Where had that come from?

  He tore it off his head and examined it. It was a cheap and flimsy-looking baseball cap. White, but with writing on the front, printed slightly off center. Without thinking, he read it aloud.

  “Eugene’s momma is a sloop.”

  Slowly, ever so slowly, the part-mechanical Eugene ‘The Butcher’ Adwin got to his feet. The part of his face that was still human bunched up in anger.

  “What did you say?” he drawled, then his eyes went to the slogan on Sinclair’s t-shirt. This, also, expressed the view that Eugene’s mother was a woman of some sexual promiscuity, only not in so many words. “You just called my momma a sloop.”

  Sinclair looked down at himself, then at the hat, then up at the now-advancing Butcher. “What? No. I didn’t,” he said, retreating. “This is a trick. This was him, don’t you see?” he babbled, as the monstrous tangle of flesh and metal drew closer. “Stay back, Butcher. I’m warning you!”

  The former president retreated a step too far. The grass heaved beneath him, and several fat oily bug skittered up the leg of his pants.

  “N-no!” he yelped, thrashing at his shin. “No, don’t, get out!”

  And then a hand was over his head, the fingers like sausage-sized vices on his skull. Sinclair gargled as he was hoisted into the air. The Butcher’s breath was like sour milk in his face. “Nobody calls my momma a sloop.”

  Then an ex-president became an ex-person, and somewhere, far out in space, Cal Carver and his Space Team streaked off into the wide black yonder.

  Or come join the party over on Facebook.

  Space Team will return in

  SPACE TEAM: PLANET OF THE JAPES