by J. Naomi Ay
“This might be fun,” I decided, slipping on a clean sweater, and holstering the Glock beneath my coat, as well as strapping my smaller laser to my leg. I never went anywhere without them, especially on a moon like this. The cops were virtually non-existent here at the edge of the galaxy, and you never knew what kind of creeps were living in these RV parks.
“Twenty-three!” Dave hollered. “Twenty-two, Red. I am missing you with every beat of my heart.”
“I’m sure my husband will be glad to hear that,” I remarked, locking the trailer door, and heading around back for my bike.
“Husband?” Dave gasped, his face turning as bright as my hair. “You have a husband here? How come I've never seen him?" He narrowed eyes and raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe me.
“Yes, I have a husband.” I quickly concocted a somewhat truthful tale of a hunting expedition. Unfortunately, I never got to tell it as I spied my bicycle lying flat in the mud, both tires deflated and the handle bars bent. “How did that happen?” I tried to prop it upright despite the kickstand having broken off.
“Perhaps a bear got to it,” Dave remarked, frowning as he observed it curiously. “You wouldn't have left any food in the basket, now would you?”
“No! I know better than that. Why would a bear have gone after my bike?”
Now, Dave shrugged, and looked at his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels and toes. “Maybe your husband used it, and didn't tell you."
“No," I snapped again. "He’s not here. Furthermore, Harvey would have never ridden a bike.”
Dave smiled widely. Apparently, Harvey’s absence meant it was open season. “Oh. I understand now,” he chuckled. “You’re estranged.”
"No, you don't understand. It's not like that at all."
"Mhm," Dave nodded, and rolled his eyes. "Of course not. When Harvey returns, I'll look forward to meeting him. In the meantime, you and I can walk to town. In fact, that will be much nicer as it’ll give us a chance to chat. Don't you think Harvey would appreciate that someone is looking after his wife? A woman alone out here in the forest could be in grave danger, you know.” He held out his arm as if I should take it.
“You obviously don't know me very well, Dave," I said, while leaning the broken bike against the RV.
"Which is why I would so love to get to know you better."
“Be careful what you wish for." I waved off his arm, and stepped out into the road, instinctively patting the Glock at my waist. "Come on. Let's get going before it gets too dark and cold. Maybe, while we're in town, I'll buy a new bike. Darn it. I’ve had this one since we left Spacebase 41-B.”
“I recall Spacebase 41-B!" Dave launched into a rambling diatribe describing the history and merits of the interstellar spacebase system.
After which, he began a long winded explanation of the provisioning requirements of the Allied Starships, and how that had required a spacebase docking every twenty and three-fourths days.
“Now, if the ship was understaffed, we might have been able to squeeze out an extra one and seven-fifth’s day. Of course, it would also depend on who was in charge. Katie ran a tight ship. Once, if I recall correctly, we squeezed out an extra two and one half’s day between requisitions. Glenn, the captain who followed her, wasn’t nearly as thrifty when it came to the ship’s stores. Many a time, I told him, ‘Now, Captain, you don’t need to be offering so many different desserts. The crew will be just as happy with a selection of only two.' With the ice cream parlor always open, there were effectively six more desserts available at any time. Katie thought that this was sufficient. There was no reason Glenn shouldn’t have, as well."
“Right,” I nodded, telling myself I didn’t care, yet perversely it still thrilled me to hear how poorly the ship fared after I had left.
As we made our way into town, Dave continued to regale me with my adventures in the Allied Spaceforce, enhancing his own participation only a little bit. I pretended to be enthralled. Actually, I didn’t have to pretend. It was nice to recall the times when I wasn’t a mud-caked Imperial Fugitive.
“Yes, the Captain and I went way back,” Dave said with a heavy sigh. “We met on our way to the Academy. Oh! I should tell you how our spaceplane was hijacked while we were en route. Katie and I stopped the hijackers by jumping from our seats and tackling them. Our old friend, Zork helped out, even though it was mostly me.”
That wasn’t exactly the way I recalled it but I let him ramble on. In fact, I purposely asked questions, and encouraged him to talk about himself. This way, he wouldn’t ask about me or my estranged and strange husband, Harvey. He also wouldn’t look closely at my face.
Actually, he hardly looked in my direction. His eyes were focused on the sky, and the past which he was recalling in great detail. My disguise was apparently good enough that even an old friend couldn’t see through it. Maybe, just maybe, this meant I could venture back to the developed regions of space.
At the general store, Dave picked up supplies while I browsed the packaged food. In the last two years, I had tasted every version of canned soup known to man. I had tried every frozen dinner, and every freeze-wrapped, and pressure-sealed entrée. I’d also perfected my cooking on a camp stove.
Although I never thought I’d ever admit it, I longed for the kitchens at the Palace, the maid staff, and my personal gourmet chef. I wouldn’t have minded the Palace laundry, and all my beautiful clothes, as I was getting tired of dressing in mud-caked jeans and torn t-shirts.
This life as an Imperial Fugitive was getting old, and frankly, I wanted to go home. I was willing to trade all this freedom to be back in the Palace jail. However, it wasn’t up to me. In fact, nothing in my life ever was. I was at Senya’s mercy, and stuck here eating frozen foods until he decided it was time to return.
“Say, I have an idea,” Dave announced, as I stared forlornly at the packages of Lean Cuisine. “Why don’t we grab a bite to eat at that little café? Today is Tuesday, so the special is chicken pot pie."
“Café?”
“Yes. The one on the edge of town overlooking the river.”
I had never gone in there. Senya refused to go out in public anywhere, and I didn’t feel comfortable eating alone.
“They also make a lovely ham sandwich,” Dave continued, taking my arm. “And their potato salad is simply out of this world. It’s not a date, by any means, so your husband has no need to worry. What do you say, Red? Are you in a hurry to return to the park? We’ve got exactly forty-three minutes until it officially becomes dusk. We have plenty of time for a sandwich and salad with some to spare. A sandwich and salad should take us only twenty-nine of them.”
“Sure, let’s go have a sandwich or a chicken pot pie."
Grabbing his bag of groceries, Dave and I walked down the street, and secured at little table by the window. We ordered our food, and while sipping on our drinks, once again, began to chat about the old days.
Half listening, half dreaming, I stared out the window at the river, a shimmering path of gray satin lazily meandering through the forests of this moon.
While Dave reminisced about the Academy, recalling his marks in every class and recalculating his grade point average for my benefit, I noticed something odd rising from the river. At first, it looked like a cloud of smoke, but then, it began to form into a humanoid-type bodies. They were completely covered in fish-like scales which reflected the setting of the neighboring star, and the brilliant red and orange colors of the host planet below.
"That's interesting," I murmured.
"Yes," Dave agreed. "Statistics were always my favorite subject. Oddly, I was one of a very few who excelled in quantitative analysis. In fact..."
"Hush Dave," I waved, and pointed at the fish men. "Look at them."
“Who?” He leaned over me to see the river. “They are curious. I never seen anything like them before, and I am versed in three hundred and twenty-seven humanoid or similar species.”
"So am I," I hissed while reachi
ng for the Glock beneath my coat. I switched off the safety and silently armed the chamber. "I've never seen anything like them before either, and my intuition is telling me this isn't good."
"Really?" Dave asked. "Mine is silent, but then again, my intuition has never been very good."
“Can I get you folks anything else?” The waitress asked, removing our plates.
“Do you know who they are?” I pointed at the crowd of fish, who were nearly up the bank.
They appeared to be walking in the direction of the town’s only road. As they drew closer, we could see large icthyes heads filled with dozens of tiny, sharp teeth on two legged bodies that were easily six-feet tall. They had an enormous dorsal fin on their backs and two smaller fins in place of arms. There appeared to be fingers on the tips, although from this distance, I wasn’t certain. However, they walked on man-like feet.
“I don’t know,” the waitress replied, glancing outside while slapping a bill in front of Dave. “We get a lot of weirdos dropping in from the Black Eye Galaxy. Most of the time, they’re pretty friendly. Hey, do you know who you look like?” She pointed at me.
"The mother of that guy who hosts that show that takes place on that island?" I jumped up, not waiting for an answer.
“I’m sure it is nothing to worry about,” Dave insisted, rising from his seat. Gallantly, he offered me his arm. "Shall we mosey on home, unless you'd like a slice of pie?"
“No thanks. No pie.” Hesitantly, I followed him to the door, while keeping my eye on the fish. They wandered around the village square, their large eyes circling on either side of their silver scaled heads. "Since you're so good at numbers, Dave, how many of those guys do you estimate are out there?"
“Statistics are far different than counting. I could estimate for you based on the average size of a typical school, although depending on the species that too will vary.”
"It's alright. I have a feeling we're going to find out soon enough."
Taking a step back to screen myself behind the door, I watched as they scanned the entire village. Clearly they were looking for something or someone. Me?
Dave was unconcerned and boldly stepped passed me onto the porch, turning around to hold the door wide open.
“Go on ahead," I urged him and pulled out the Glock, keeping it ready at my side. “I want to see their reaction as you pass them on the street."
All color instantly drained from Dave's normally ruddy face. "Aren't you coming? Is that a real gun?"
"Walk down the steps. I’ll follow you after I see what they do. Don’t worry, Dave. I tend to shoot first and ask questions later. If they are aggressive to you in any way, I'll take them out.” I lied as I said this. If these guys were anything like real fish, my gun would be useless. I'd be better off with a pole and a barbed hook.
“Al-alright,” he stuttered, grasping the wooden rail.
Slowly, he descended the three steps down to the town’s main street, and then, anxiously looked back at me.
In the meantime, I had moved out onto the porch, and from behind the rail, was noting how the fish-men watched Dave’s progression. Their large eyes circled warily at each one of Dave’s steps. They snapped their jaws once or twice, and flashed their tiny, sharp teeth.
“Are you coming, Red?” Dave called, his voice high and song-like. “It’s getting dark. We ought to head on home before it gets too late.”
“Walk a few more paces." I waved and smiled so he wouldn't be concerned. “See if any of them come towards you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Dave! If they're friendly, give me a sign."
"Like what?"
"Like a thumbs up. Be creative, Dave."
Just as I suspected, as soon as Dave took a step in their direction, the fish guys bolted down the street at him. Dave shrieked and raced back up the café’s porch.
“Open up!” He demanded, pounding on the door, which now had a Closed sign hanging from string.
“Over here!” I waved. Beneath the railing was a thin clapboard wall which afforded us a tiny bit of protection.
The fish men ran, sort of. Even though they had normal feet, the fins on the back of their thighs hampered their progress. Dave squatted beside me, his breath coming hard, his skin damp and pale.
"Calm down. Maybe, they're not after us. Deep breaths, Dave. It’s just like being back in the Spaceforce, right? Every day was either boring as hell, or a death defying adventure."
“Wrong. I was a lot younger then. How sure are you that this is nothing? Give me a percentage. What’s the chance we’ll survive?”
"One hundred, of course.” I didn't tell Dave, but at this point, I was also a hundred percent certain these fish guys were looking for me. How did I know this? It was either my intuition, or the fact, that somehow, these kind of creeps always were.
The fish creatures were at the base of the stairs, only a meter or so from us, when their leader stepped forward. His large eyes circled in the dim light of the evening, as his mouth bobbed open, and closed a few times. A cloud of bubbles popped out.
“What does he want?” Dave muttered. "Can you understand him?"
“Crap.” I was right.
“Carp?”
“Carp?” I repeated.
“I thought you were identifying him as a carp,” Dave said.
“No. I don’t know what he is. Hush. I think he’s trying to talk.”
The fish guy spoke in a series of gurgling noises except for a hard consonant which he kept repeating.
“What is he saying?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” I sat down against the wall and tried to think.
“Why don’t you shoot him? Just like you said, shoot first, ask questions later."
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Everybody knows you can’t shoot fish with a gun. Watch!” I bolted to my feet and let loose a few shots.
The noise startled and scattered the creatures before the bullets landed harmlessly in the meadow across the street. The fish immediately clustered again in front of the café, rapidly blinking their eyes and turning their heads to see us behind the rail.
“So what are our options?” Dave muttered, nervously wringing his hands.
“Well, we can sit here and let them capture us, or run.” I grabbed Dave’s hand. "Let's get the hell out of here."
We stumbled across the porch and headed to the back of the café where we found ourselves in an alley cluttered with old fashioned, metal trash cans. To buy us an extra minute or two, I blasted another couple shots in the air, which meant, I had only five rounds left in this magazine.
“Uh oh,” Dave groaned as another school of fish-men appeared in front of us.
“This way.” I pulled him through the cans, knocking a few over while we were at it. A few cans started rolling, making an obnoxious clatter, which served to deter the fish for a few minutes, while we crossed the alley, and ran between two narrow houses.
“Maybe, they’ll forget about us,” I hoped, bolting out into an open field just as a bank of dark clouds crossed the sky momentarily blocking out all light.
Briefly, it gave us some cover. In general, fish had limited memories and couldn't see well in the dark. This might be all the time we needed for them to lose track of us and go away.
“My ankle!” Dave gasped, and then, promptly fell into the brush. “I think I’ve twisted it. There was a log or something. I couldn’t see it.”
“Oh Dave,” I cried, spinning around. "Where are you? Speak to me, but quietly."
“Over here.”
“Over where?"
"Here.”
“Oh!"
I tripped on his foot, falling face first on top of him. Awkwardly, we wrestled for a moment, until I managed to push myself off, and climb back to my feet.
“Can you stand? Here Dave. Take my hand, and let me help you up."
“No, Red. You go on. Don’t worry about me. Save yourself.”
"Don't be ridiculous, Dave. Now is not the time to be noble."
It was then that the clouds moved on to once again expose a brilliant star-filled sky. The glowing planet below lit up like a moon, reflecting the light of the distant star. Only a few steps away were a bunch of those fish guys, their shiny scales also reflecting the light.
Twirling around in a circle, I realized we were surrounded. I could blow my last rounds, but that wouldn’t give us more than another few minutes as the fish scattered and regrouped.
“What do you want?” I shouted instead. “Why are you chasing us? Who sent you?”
“MaKani.” One of them stepped forward and flapped his fins. This was followed by a series of vowels, a few popping noises, and what might have been a smile, as he held out his fishy fingers and waggled them at me. “MaKennah. MaKani,” he repeated a few more times, causing my heart to seize in my chest.
Had something happened to Senya? Was he in some kind of trouble? Did he send this school of fish to fetch me?
Actually, that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Senya hated fish. He had said that many times. He called them insipid brainless drones who were only good for eating filleted or raw. If he was going to send any creature on his behalf, it would have had to be a bird, or better yet, a ship bearing the Imperial SpaceNavy's crest. Clearly someone else was after me, someone who liked fish.
Now, I had a choice to make. I could continue to run and shoot them, wasting my last few rounds, or compliantly, go and hope for the best.
“Bye Dave.” I holstered my gun. “I’ll see you later, or not.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going with them.”
“Me too,” Dave insisted, struggling to his feet, and then hopping on one foot to follow me.
“Seriously, you don’t have to,” I said. “Go back home to the RV park.”
"I can't let you go alone, Red. It might not be safe. Do you have any idea where they are taking you?"
"No, but I have a suspicion. It'll have something to do with the Black Eye Galaxy. There’s a reason he left me parked here right next door.”
