Skid

by Keith Fenwick

  She looked up and shook her head. “No.”

  “Sure?”

  “I don’t.”

  Bruce took his cigarette from his mouth and stared at it contemplatively. “I hope you don’t mind me then.”

  “Yes, I do,” she replied sharply, “but it won’t stop you, will it?”

  Bruce shook his head. “No, it won’t, I’m afraid. But not to worry. I’ve only got half a dozen left.”

  “Then why don’t you just go and get some more?”

  “Eh? Where the hell am I going to get a packet of smokes around here?”

  “From your friends, of course, your fellow space cadets. What is this anyway? Some kind of sick joke?”

  “Look here, you stupid woman, do I look like one of those other blokes out there?” Bruce tapped some ash onto Cop’s back. “I was minding my own business  just like you, I imagine  and then suddenly here I was.”

  The woman glanced from Bruce to Cop  who was still resting his head on Bruce’s knee  to the other dogs and then back to Bruce. “You’re not one of them, then?” she asked hesitantly.

  Definitely an American, Bruce decided from her accent. “Of course not!” he snarled. “Do I look like a bloody alien?”

  “No, I suppose not,” she conceded. “Not that I’ve ever met one before,” she sobbed. “Ohhh.”

  Bruce reached out and patted the woman tentatively on her shoulder, hoping to offer her a little comfort. She immediately tensed as he touched her and started to shrug him off. After a moment she relaxed a bit and then got up and sat down on the bed beside him.

  “Now what?” Bruce took a closer look at the woman. Well, girl really, because she didn’t look that old. He tossed away his cigarette and felt her jump as the drone shot out of the wall alongside her to clear up the butt.

  “What’s that?” she asked, her body tensing.

  “Just the cleaning lady,” Bruce joked, and she relaxed again.

  With his free hand Bruce hooked her hair back so he could see her face more clearly. “What’s your name?”

  “Sue. Sue Clark. What’s yours?”

  “Bruce. And that’s Cop, Punch and Can.”

  Cop raised his head at the mention of his name and padded over to sit beside Sue.

  “And where does Sue Clark come from?” he asked, deciding that getting her talking might take her mind off whatever predicament both of them were in.

  “Portland, Oregon,” she said, through a new barrage of sobs.

  “You probably think it sounds obvious, but how did you get here, Sue?”

  “I’m in travel. My own company,” she replied proudly, “and, well, I was on this promotional hiking trip through the forest when I got lost. I went behind a tree to pee and when I’d finished, everyone had gone.” Her body convulsed in a huge sob. “So I picked up my pack and ran to catch up with them. When I came to a fork in the trail, I must have picked the wrong one. By the time I realized, it was almost dark.” Sue took a deep breath and sighed. “So I sat down trying not to panic. After a little while I decided that if I cut through the forest I would find the other trail so I just kept walking and walking, trying to find it.”

  “You should have stayed put, eh? Somebody would have come looking for you once they realized you had gone.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “Well, what happened next?”

  “I’m not certain. Just when I had about given up, I found myself out there thinking I had been saved. It was so horrible.”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad really, is it?”

  “Out there I mean,” Sue sobbed, gesticulating wildly when the words would not come.

  “Take it easy. It can’t be that bad.”

  “You want a bet? There were two men out there when I arrived.”

  “Two others? Well, where are they?” Bruce demanded. If there were two or three others, maybe they could overpower the spacemen and fly the spaceship home.

  Sue dashed his hopes almost as quickly as she had raised them. “No, it’s too horrible. I can’t.”

  “Tell me, Sue. Tell me.” Bruce shook her roughly. “What about the two men?”

  “I found myself standing out there on a platform,” Sue sniveled, “with a man like none I’d ever seen before, watching me.” She sniffed again. “He was really pale, like an albino. Then I realized there were two other men standing beside me on the platform as well.”

  “Go on.”

  “Then three other spacemen joined the first one.”

  At least four then, thought Bruce grimly.

  “Then there seemed to be some sort of problem. A warning light flashed on the bench. The first alien pushed a few buttons, and there was a bump and the ship seemed to accelerate.”

  That must be what woke me up, Bruce thought.

  Sue started crying again, pressing her face into Bruce’s shoulder.

  “Come on. Tell me what happened then,” he insisted softly.

  “One of the men beside me, he seemed quite old, suddenly fell down clutching at his chest. I guess he must have had a heart attack or something.”

  When Sue had finished, Bruce had to admit it was quite a harrowing tale. No wonder she was so upset.

  The man who had collapsed, an old guy apparently, had writhed on the floor while the others looked on helplessly. Before anyone could react, a large drone had shot out from somewhere and sucked up one of the men. It must have made a mistake because it didn’t suck up the man writhing on the floor clutching at his chest, but the one who had knelt down beside him to see what he could do to help. Then, as if the drone had realized its mistake, it sucked up what was probably its original target. Not a pretty sight, Bruce conceded. Watching two men being sucked up by a self-propelled vacuum cleaner and wondering if you were next. What a way to go!

  Sue had been left standing there, numbed by the sudden brutality of the act and waiting for her own end. She only recovered enough to scream and struggle when she was forced into another room, where she had been stripped, thrown under a shower and then been hurled in the room with Bruce, where she now shivered with delayed shock.

  Five

  The crew members stood around a low table in the ship’s debating chamber, waiting for Myfair to explain why he had partially decontaminated the transporter’s precious cargo, his second major misdemeanor in a short time. Once that was out of the way  and they wouldn’t press him too hard, as that wasn’t the done thing on Skid  they could begin to discuss exactly how they would introduce the two remaining candidates to the ruling council and validate their jaunt across the galaxy.

  At this stage the crew were ignorant of the fact that the ruling council knew all about their ‘secret’ operation and were preparing to take advantage of their initiative for their own ends.

  This was thanks to Myfair, who, being a typical Skidian, followed the letter of the law by filing a flight plan to gain authorization for the use of the patrol ship to visit the offworld planet. It had never occurred to him to file a dodgy one. It was beyond Myfair to show that sort of initiative and suggest that he was planning a joyride to the other end of the universe instead of to some backward planet in an otherwise unremarkable solar system. This facet of Skidian culture made the present journey of himself and his companions all that more remarkable for its daring.

  “One of the candidates appeared to be terminally incapacitated so the disposal unit automatically dealt with him.” Instant disposal was the standard accepted medical treatment for any but the most minor of Skidian infirmities. Myfair cleared his throat noisily. “Unfortunately, the unit selected the wrong individual so I immediately rectified this error manually.” He lowered his eyes, avoiding the accusing stares aimed in his direction. Feigning shame for his incompetence would be accepted as sufficient punishment for his mistake. However, the others well knew he did not feel any remorse, let alone accountability or responsibility for his error.

  “So now we have only two candidates, and one of them, the male, is
probably not equipped to help us.” Cyprus stated what he thought was the obvious. “And their home planet has been alerted to our presence so it would be unwise for us to return there for now.”

  The four of them stood silently around the table for several minutes, as if assimilating this latest piece of intelligence. At the center of the table sat a bowl half full of a murky liquid, beside which rested a scoop on a white mat. The scoop was in fact the shell of a marine crustacean, the history and significance of which had been lost in the mists of time. Indeed, if asked, none of the Skidians could have said anything about the shell’s origins, and it would have come as a shock to them to discover it was the mobile home of a tasty marine animal. In other words, something organic.

  The Skidians did not know what an animal was; they attached no significance to knowing such things. This simple failing was one of the reasons why they could all soon starve to death despite their dominance of the known universe. Not only had the Skidians become complacent, but Skid had long since ceased to expand and grow in both a technological and social sense. Most Skidians had ceased to learn or do anything at all, living from day to day, without an apparent care in the world. Their society had become moribund; most Skidians were totally ignorant of the fact that their world was slowly falling to pieces about their ears. Those few who were aware of this fact either didn’t know what to do about it or hoped the crisis would just go away of its own accord. More importantly, most of them had also forgotten the mighty Skidian achievements of the past, because they did not suit the image that latter-day Skidians had of themselves.

  In accordance with tradition Myfair reached across the table, dipped the scoop into the bowl to collect a small amount of liquid. He swilled it around the scoop several times in the correct manner, flung the contents over his shoulder with a quick flick of the wrist, then he replenished the scoop and offered it in turn to each of his companions in order of seniority before finally taking a drink himself. Then the ritual was re-enacted until the bowl was empty.

  Bowing his head, Myfair began the last stage of the traditional process of flagellation. He produced a small pouch from within the folds of his robe and extracted a small book of thin papers. He then took a pinch of leafy material from the pouch, one of the papers and rolled up a cigarette. In contrast to their dignified behavior of a few minutes earlier, the others threw themselves at the pouch as Myfair produced a glowing plug and lit the cigarette poked into his left nostril.

  “The offworld male takes agar orally,” Myfair commented, to the general disgust of the others as they puffed away contentedly. Taking agar, the leafy material they smoked, was a solemn ritual. The offworlder’s casual abuse of the ritual served to reinforce to them that he was a base and primitive being.

  Before they could apply themselves to the task of how to introduce the primitive offworlders to Skid, a shrill beep heralded an incoming communications signal from traffic control, and they crowded around a bank of screens to see if the nature of their unauthorized journey had been discovered.

  It had, but the news could have been worse. The ruling council had discovered the reason for their journey, and even more astonishingly, had retroactively approved it. There was no doubt as to who would bear the responsibility for the failure or success of their wild scheme. Nevertheless, for the moment the Skidians aboard the space ship felt as if they had already succeeded beyond their wildest dreams, even if they were not entirely sure what it was they were trying to achieve.

  Toytoo stared thoughtfully at the screen. “Brothers, let us look beyond the present moment to consider how we can best prosper from the events we have set in motion.”

  It perplexed Mulgoon and Myfair that Toytoo deemed it proper to suggest that a commoner such as Cyprus could be casually termed a brother. However, at the same time Toytoo had also presented them with another new and far more puzzling notion.

  It was not often that Skidians stopped to consider where they were heading or to peer particularly analytically into the future. This was a foreign concept for people who wanted for nothing and for whom the possibility of impending famine was totally incomprehensible. On Skid, whatever a Skidian wanted, he got. There was no work, no sacrifice, no struggle to survive or to improve one’s self. None was necessary on a world where a super-industrial complex that required almost no Skidian involvement met every conceivable physical requirement. The sole reason for living for almost an entire race was to procreate perhaps once or twice in a lifetime to ensure the survival of the race.

  This indolent lifestyle meant the Skidians were easily controlled and manipulated by an aristocratic ruling elite, to which three of the crewmen belonged and Cyprus had just successfully aspired, which had evolved in parallel to the development of a society of immense technical ability.

  Toytoo had some understanding of the situation, recognizing that the offworlders might provide him with a powerful lever with which he could catapult himself into the leadership of Skid. While he was the head of a senior family in Skidian society, he was not of the ruling family. If he was going to change the present order of succession he was going to have to instigate a revolution the likes of which had not been seen on the planet in untold generations.

  The unheard-of decline in the production of synthofood that Skid was presently experiencing might mean that Skidians would have to be directed into producing organic food themselves. This phenomenon could result in the development of a crisis that he might be able to take advantage of to foment a revolution. Unfortunately Toytoo was struggling to conceive exactly what form this potential revolution would take, or how he could use it to his advantage, even after months of studying the concept.

  What he did know was that he needed the faithful support of his companions and control over the future activities of the offworlders, if they survived their introduction to Skid, which at this stage was by no means certain.

  On the other hand, if the introduction of the offworlders proved to be of little or no value to Skid, then he would do his utmost to distance himself from any involvement with them.

  “Mulgoon.”

  “Yes, Toytoo?”

  “Could you establish the nutritional requirements of the offworlders and see that they are provided for, please.”

  Mulgoon nodded and trotted off to consult his instruments. Toytoo believed he could be relied on for support and total obedience, as could Myfair who, even by Skidian standards, lacked any ambition. Only Cyprus’s allegiances were suspect. Toytoo wondered if he could be maneuvered into becoming a close associate and confidant of the offworlders. He hoped so. Cyprus was the least valuable of his companions if someone needed to carry any blame for their actions.

  Six

  Sue had settled down a little, though she was obviously still in shock and not really comprehending that she was on board a spaceship, racing through space, to who knows where. Bruce, on the other hand, was trying to work out exactly what a man did when he found himself shanghaied by a bunch of aliens. In the movies he would be outraged. Well he was, although he wasn’t getting worked up about it and banging on the wall, demanding to be released because the aliens had no right to take him when he didn’t want to go. Despite the fact he didn’t feel like it, he seriously doubted whether they would take any notice even if they heard him.

  In a movie, by now he would have rerouted the circuitry on the keyboard, would have opened the door, overcome the aliens and would be working out how to turn the spaceship around to take him home. Unfortunately this was neither TV nor the movies. This was reality. So Bruce pulled out another smoke and lit up.

  Sue snapped out of her trance as he puffed away contentedly.

  “You’re not going to smoke in here are you?” she snarled, “I can’t stand cigarette smoke. It’s disgusting.”

  “Tough.” Bruce snapped back, rising from the bed. He began to pace up and down, coming to a standstill before the keyboard, pressing a button at random, and then resuming his pacing. He did his best to ignore the woman, wh
ose nagging was beginning to annoy him. Some kind of electro pop muzac suddenly spilled into the room. The lights dimmed and some sort of heater switched on.

  Bruce, sensing Sue was about to erupt, stopped playing.

  “Where do you think we might be going?” Sue asked suddenly, obviously worried about her immediate prospects.

  “How the hell would I know, you stupid woman? Geez, Wayne,” Bruce muttered under his breath.

  “There’s no need to get nasty about it, is there?” sobbed Sue.

  If the truth were known, Bruce was actually starting to get a little excited about the prospect of being whisked away to another planet, though he was sure Sue didn’t share his excitement.

  He stubbed out the cigarette on the floor and opened his mouth to say something conciliatory.

  “How gross.”

  “Eh?” Now what had he done to upset her? He almost hoped the aliens would come and take her away and leave him in peace.

  Sue tucked her feet up as the drone shot out of the wall to suck up the butt.

  “Oh. That you mean? Well, where else am I supposed to put it?”

  Before Sue could reply the door slid open to reveal one of the spacemen standing in the opening. This one was a little shorter than the first alien Bruce had seen, with a big belly evident beneath his robes.

  “Hello, my name is Mulgoon.”

  Having introduced himself, the Skidian stepped aside to reveal a self-propelled trolley that swept silently into the room behind him.

  The dogs looked up with interest and trotted over to investigate the trolley, sensing before Bruce and Sue that it contained food. Mulgoon became alarmed and began to back away when the dogs started to leap up at the trolley, barking at it and trying to knock containers off the top.

  “Shut up, you bastards!” Bruce yelled.

  However, his dogs had never been the most obedient of creatures so he had to yell at them again until they sat in front of Mulgoon, panting and drooling expectantly.

  “I have some food for you,” Mulgoon said after he had regained his composure. Lifting a flap on the trolley he withdrew a plate of something that resembled boiled rice and offered it to Bruce.