Holly Farb and the Princess of the Galaxy

by Gareth Wronski

  Humans emerged randomly from caves, developed primitive tools that most civilizations had developed centuries earlier, formed rudimentary tribes, had violent clashes with other tribes, formed larger tribes, had even larger violent clashes, built primitive stone walls around their tribes, had even more violent clashes with any tribe they could get their hands on, replaced their stone walls with newer forms of walls, and continued to exist for centuries in this cycle of warfare and wall-fare. Eventually they invented the microwave. That is human history.

  Holly Farb did not think about any of this as she floated in space, even though it is interesting. She did not think about the benefits of being a superior robotic being who would have no problem existing in an oxygen-free environment. Instead, she floated, thinking about owls.

  * * *

  Holly floated, thinking about owls. It was better than thinking about floating in space. Her favorite owl was the snowy owl, but the tawny owl was also a fine specimen. In fourth grade Holly had given an owl to her teacher, Ms. Sharma. Actually, she had sponsored an owl at a bird sanctuary and given a certificate to Ms. Sharma, but Holly liked to think she had given her an actual owl. Gift wrapped, in an owl-shaped box. Sometimes it was fun to imagine things.

  As Holly pictured the owl-shaped box, she smiled. Then she remembered she was about to die and stopped smiling.

  “Where are we?” said Holly.

  Chester waved his arm. “This is space.”

  Holly narrowed her eyes. “How long will these bubbles last?” she said, ignoring this interloper.

  Mr. Mendez checked his chunky watch. His voice crackled in her earpiece: “Thirty-six minutes.” He checked again. “Actually, thirty-five minutes.”

  Chester was floating nearby, upside down. “Then what happens? The bubbles pop?”

  “Correct,” said Mr. Mendez. “The bubbles will pop and then so will we.”

  “Well,” said Chester. “I guess that’s it. The adventure is over.”

  “That’s it?” Holly stared at him. “This is not it. I refuse to die in space. Our adventure is not over. I mean, it is over, but not in a dying way. In a going-home way.”

  Chester bowed his head. “I’m so sorry for getting you involved. Although . . . if you think about it . . . this is a pretty amazing way to die. Better than dying at home. If you’re going to die, this is a good place to do it.”

  Holly crossed her arms and glared. She couldn’t believe what a weird person he was, and even more, she couldn’t believe she was going to die in space. She wished she could straighten out her clothes, but the bubbles made it too hard. It was honestly aggravating.

  They all floated silently. The air in the bubbles smelled like soap and was growing colder and colder. As Holly continued glaring, she noticed something gleaming in the distance. It was like a tiny diamond sparkling in space. But as it got closer, she realized it wasn’t a diamond—and it wasn’t tiny. And it definitely wasn’t floating.

  It was a huge spaceship cruising toward them.

  “Over there!” she shouted, and her own voice echoed painfully in her earpiece. “A ship!”

  Mr. Mendez and Chester craned their necks in the direction she was pointing.

  “It’s heading right for us!”

  “Great galaxies! Get out of the way!”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know!”

  The ship slammed into them like a big, silent cosmic fist. Holly, protected by bubbles, didn’t feel the impact, but she bounced off the front of the ship and ping-ponged along the side, sticking to a long, rectangular window on the hull. She couldn’t see where Mr. Mendez and Chester were, but garbled grunts crackled through her earpiece. Then they stopped and there was no noise at all.

  Her ears rang with silence. It was the most silent thing she had ever experienced.

  The thing with silence, Holly realized, is that you can hear it. You can hear it throbbing in your ears, and it makes you aware of just how noisy the world normally is.

  “Guys?” she said. “Is anybody out there?”

  She waited. And waited.

  When there was no response, she shifted her body and stared through the window she was stuck to. Inside was a white oval room with people seated at tables eating food off shiny silver plates. Waiters bustled from table to table, bringing more food and collecting the empty plates. Through the bubbles and glass, Holly could just make out strange types of food she had never seen before. But if the food was strange, it had nothing on the people eating it. For starters, they weren’t remotely “people” at all. Aliens of every size and shape and color sat at the tables, some of them so bizarre that Holly wasn’t sure what part of their bodies she was even looking at.

  “Guys,” she whispered, hoping her earpiece would bring a response from Mr. Mendez or Chester. “Are you there?” She waited, painfully aware of each passing second. “Hello?”

  There was only silence.

  She pried her bubble-encased face from the window, leaving a greasy smear, and looked down the hull of the ship. Written in large golden letters were the words STELLAR SAILER CRUISE LINES.

  She didn’t know if they were friendly or not. She didn’t know if they would eat her. She didn’t know much beyond the fact that she didn’t want to be outside any longer. Unsure of what else to do, Holly took a deep breath and banged on the glass.

  A small purple alien at one of the tables gazed up at her and jumped in fright, knocking its drink to the floor. The alien pointed up at the window and heads turned in Holly’s direction. She couldn’t hear them, but based on their faces and pointing and running around, it was clear everyone was panicking. She waved meekly at them.

  Before she knew what was happening, two burly space-suit-clad arms wrapped around her, pried her off the glass, hoisted her up, and tugged her along the hull. A metal door slid open and she found herself inside the ship. The door slammed shut, and with a jolt, she suddenly felt heavy again, falling to the floor with a thud. She grimaced.

  The big creature that had brought her inside stopped and looked down at her. Slowly, it slid a knife out from its pocket.

  Holly gasped, her frightened face reflected back at her in the creature’s helmet. The brown of her eyes in the warped mirror looked like melting chocolate ice cream, which made her stomach twinge with hunger.

  But all the alien did was burst the bubbles, then put the knife away. Warm air whirled around her. Holly took a huge swallow of oxygen, her whole body tingling.

  The alien tugged off its space suit, revealing green skin and what looked like barnacles growing all over it like acne.

  “Greetings,” said the alien with a deep rumble. Holly’s earpiece crackled, turning the words into English. “Name’s Bundleswirp. I’m captain of this ship. Are you okay?”

  “Y-yes.” Holly’s head spun. “Where . . . are we?”

  “You,” said Captain Bundleswirp, “are on the luxury cruise liner the Mighty Cactus. If the name confuses you, don’t worry, it was picked by a random name generator at the Stellar Sailer corporate office. I have no idea what a cactus is, so don’t even ask.”

  So many questions flooded through Holly’s head, and she wasn’t sure what to ask first, so instead, in a small voice, she muttered, “It’s a type of plant.”

  Captain Bundleswirp ran a hand down her barnacles. “Well, I’ll be a jumping jirt,” she said. “Mystery finally solved. Now I’ll have an answer when the tourists ask.”

  Bundleswirp grabbed the handle of her knife. “Say, any chance you’re a pirate?”

  Holly hesitated. “No. . . .”

  “Excellent!”

  She pulled Holly to her feet and patted her on the back with a body-shaking thump, then ushered her through the white hallways of the Mighty Cactus. The floors, walls, and ceilings were the same perfect shade of white, like the freshest snow imaginable. The temperature was warm and welcoming, and the air somehow smelled cleaner than it had on Earth. Probably a machine does that, she thought. A space machine. />
  As if on cue, a robot lurched around the corner, vacuuming the floor with a tube coming out of its chest. “Priority cleaning,” it intoned, and continued down the hall.

  Bundleswirp ignored the robot. “Our new navigator bot noticed you floating in space. Thought you were just junk at first. There was a debate about picking you up, in case it was some kind of pirate ruse, but I figured it was safe.”

  “Yes,” agreed Holly, “I’m very trustworthy. I’ve never made a ruse in my life.”

  “I bet you’re hungry,” she said to Holly, turning the corner, “what with nearly dying in the deep regions of the Tourism Zone. I’ve had our chef whip you up some food. He trained at the Intergalactic Culinary Academy, so you know he’s good. And he has seven arms, so you know he’s fast.”

  Holly glanced up at the alien’s face. She had one of those questions you’re afraid to ask because you’re worried about what the answer is going to be. “Did you . . . find anyone else when you picked me up? Or was I the only one?”

  “Hmmm,” said Bundleswirp, “now that’s the sort of question that requires sitting down.”

  A door slid open with a soft hiss and Bundleswirp ushered Holly into a long conference room with a narrow table down the center. Seated at the table were Mr. Mendez and Chester.

  “You’re alive!” said Holly.

  “Holly,” said Chester, his face lighting up.

  Mr. Mendez jumped out of his chair. “Ms. Farb! When your communicator went dead, we assumed the worst.”

  Holly blushed. She wasn’t used to people worrying about her, or being glad to see her. On second thought, her mother would have worried about her, but that didn’t count—she was legally required to worry about her. “Nope. The captain saved me.”

  Bundleswirp patted her on the back. “Aye.”

  “She saved us, too,” said Chester.

  “Aye.” Bundleswirp grinned, revealing two rows of teeth. She blinked a set of vertical eyelids. “Now, enough chatter. It’s time you eat.”

  Holly sat at the table and put a napkin over her lap. She carefully adjusted it for the perfect amount of lap coverage. Her stomach rumbled so loud she momentarily thought it was the ship’s engine. A parade of three-headed waiters bustled through the door carrying trays of food. Glorious smells swirled around the room. The waiters stooped down, placing the trays on the table, and in one fluid motion turned and retreated like it was a carefully choreographed routine.

  There were all sorts of strange dishes Holly had never seen before. She eyed the cubes and squidgy blobs and shimmering cylinders spread out on the plates. There seemed to be no cutlery anywhere. A clear sphere started rolling off her plate until it was dragged back by a glowing red fish thing. She had no idea what any of it was, or how it was eaten, or whether it was even supposed to be eaten. It was the most puzzling food she had ever seen. This is definitely going to result in me looking foolish, she thought, grinding her teeth. Like that time she was eating spaghetti and slurped a piece of pasta so powerfully it accidentally whipped her in the eye.

  Chester swallowed an orange ball on his plate, and Holly, not wanting to appear awkward, sipped a bowl of what looked like neon-green soup. She grimaced. It tasted like how something neon green would taste. Next, she nibbled on a weird blue ball, which turned out to be the most amazing thing she had ever eaten. It was sweet and salty and sour and . . . everything. It tasted like all the best things she had ever tasted.

  Mr. Mendez raised a bushy eyebrow. “Ms. Farb, why are you eating the cutlery?”

  Her cheeks burned.

  As they ate, Captain Bundleswirp stood by the window, gazing out at the stars. “I don’t know what you were all doing floating in space in emergency space suits.” Mr. Mendez opened his mouth to speak, but Bundleswirp held up her hand for silence. “And it doesn’t matter. I don’t ask any questions. Your business is your business. But ever since this highfalutin Pirate Lord person showed up recently, ships of all kinds have been waylaid by piratey types, and I’m hoping to ensure the Mighty Cactus remains off that list.”

  Holly, Mr. Mendez, and Chester exchanged dark glances.

  “In the spirit of full disclosure,” said Mr. Mendez, “we were, in fact, just kidnapped from our planet by pirates claiming to represent a ‘Pirate Lord.’ ”

  Bundleswirp nodded slowly. “Figured as much. He’s a galactic scourge. Pirates were never such a bothersome bunch until he started at it.”

  “We were, ah, hoping to get back home to Earth. Now that we’ve escaped, that is.”

  “Aye,” said Bundleswirp. “Figured as much.”

  “But don’t worry,” added Mr. Mendez, “it was simply a case of mistaken identity. They thought Ms. Farb here was the Princess of the Quartle Galaxy. Imagine! I’m sure they’ll realize their mistake and go look elsewhere.”

  “Didn’t figure all that, but it sounds fine.” Bundleswirp scratched a barnacle. “Our voyage is nearly over, and tomorrow we’ll be arriving at our final destination.” She frowned. “Unfortunately, when we arrive, I can’t offer you anything more. We’ll be picking up a new batch of passengers, and Stellar Sailer corporate drones will sweep the ship for stowaways. You’ll have to get off with the other guests.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Captain,” said Mr. Mendez. “More than generous.”

  “Yes,” agreed Holly. “So we’ll be able to get to Earth from there?”

  “Of course!” roared Bundleswirp. “Easy as rustling sand worms. The President of the Universe controls all official space travel, and he’s made it real simple to get around. Just need to find a ship to take you. Aye, should be real simple.”

  Holly sighed with relief. “Thank you so much.”

  “Hmmm,” said Bundleswirp. A little shrimp skittered out of her hair and down her face. “You might not be so happy when you realize where I’ll have to leave you, though.”

  Holly put down her glass and frowned. “Where?”

  Captain Bundleswirp sighed. “Customs.”

  6

  BLUE BLOODS

  Human tourists roaming the universe are easily identifiable by several common characteristics. They travel in groups and follow standard pack behavior. They often wear strong pastel colors such as mauve and are capable of short, intense bursts of speed due to the human transportation device known as Rollerblades. But the most common sign you are dealing with a human tourist is that humans are frequent carriers of intergalactic parasites known as backpacks. Similar to some species of brain worm, the backpack attaches to its host and feeds off its innards, which in a human are inefficiently comprised of mostly water.

  Nonhuman readers are advised that should they encounter a human tourist, the necessary precautions are to be taken. Do not make sustained eye contact. Do not ask how their day is going. And do not reveal the terrifying truth that Earth is merely one of billions of insignificant planets no one cares about. But above all else, no matter what you do in your galactic travels—do not anger a human’s backpack. Merely allow it to continue feasting on the abundant supply of water that makes up the human body. Do not draw attention to any water you may contain, and ensure that all beverages are consumed outside the backpack’s field of vision.

  Of course, superior robotic beings do not have to worry about intergalactic parasites and can go about their usual efficient business. Because unlike humans, superior robotic beings are not glorified water bottles roaming the universe.

  * * *

  After the meal had been devoured, Captain Bundleswirp brought Holly to an empty room on the lower deck, and before the alien could even say, “Here’s your room,” Holly flopped down on the bed, burying her face in the pillow. Everything was so soft and comfortable, and almost instantly she was asleep. Strange images tumbled around her mind like the world’s weirdest merry-go-round. The only one she could recall afterward was a vivid dream where she was flying through the sky on a broomstick, a huge owl circling around her, screaming, “BAWK. YOU’RE THE BEST BROOMSTICK PIL
OT I’VE EVER SEEN, HOLLY. A-PLUS.”

  When she woke the next day, Holly felt refreshed and relaxed. It was the best sleep she had ever had. Energy surged through her limbs like they were right out of a box. She jumped off the bed and rummaged through the room’s spacious closet. A soothing voice murmured, “Welcome to your closet.” She grabbed a pair of blue pants and a white T-shirt with the words STELLAR SAILER CRUISE LINES on it.

  It made her feel like a tourist. A space tourist.

  But the voice also reminded her of something—her mother. Holly wondered if her mother had noticed she was missing yet, and if she had, what she must have been doing. Was she worried? Holly swallowed, trying not to think about it. Instead she focused on her extremely blue pants, easily the bluest pants she had ever worn.

  After Holly was finished admiring her new space clothes in the floor-to-ceiling space mirror, she joined Mr. Mendez and Chester in the conference room. A variety of weird breakfast foods had already been laid out, and Holly grabbed a sweet-smelling blue cube that tasted a bit like a strawberry milkshake. It wasn’t bad.

  The door slid open and Captain Bundleswirp strolled in. “All right,” she rumbled. “We’re approaching our destination. I’ve arranged for you to be smuggled out among the passengers. Your story is that you’re a wealthy human family of tourists from the planet Earth. No one should ask anything about Earth because no one in the universe really cares about that planet.” She grabbed a golf-ball-size yellow fruit off the table and bit down on it. “No offense.”

  They traipsed back to the main deck and entered the control room. Official-looking crew members in white uniforms sat at blinking computer terminals along the wall, adjusting dials and tapping screens. The entire ship shuddered. The distant hum of the engine went silent, and Holly could feel the Mighty Cactus slowing down. She stared out the curved window at the approaching port, a massive metallic ring floating in space. It reminded her of pictures of space stations, although this was much, much bigger than anything humans had produced. She wondered how many people could be on it. Hundreds? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Her mind reeled. Other ships were coming and going from the port, leaving shimmering trails of light as they blasted along.