Max and the Snoodlecock

by Zachry Wheeler

  For a moment.

  Off in the distance, a dull rumble echoed through the valley. A thin cloud of dust lifted from behind a nearby hill. Before long, a fleshy boulder rolled over the top, spraying a wake of dirt like a raging powerboat. Phil careened down the hill towards the tiny ship. His anxious bellows filled the valley, like a charging army with a death wish.

  The airlock slid open, revealing Zoey and Perra in their patented ass-kicking poses. Zoey filled her lungs with crisp, clean air, and expelled the same aaaaaah from every breath mint commercial. She grinned and dropped to the surface. Perra followed, hopping from the ship and landing with the grace of a gymnast. A nervous Max poked his head around the airlock, then crawled down to the surface like a toddler testing chair height.

  Zoey lifted an arm to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight. A quick scan uncovered the emotional meat sack racing towards them a football field away. She donned a toothy smile, opened her arms wide, and skipped towards the rumbling creature. Phil skidded to a halt, wailed like a banshee, sprouted a dozen tentacles, wrapped them around Zoey, and sucked her into his body like a hungry octopus. Perra giggled as Phil pulsated with unbridled joy. Max wore an expression of utter horror.

  “Holy goose fuck,” Max said. “That thing just ate Zoey!”

  “No, she’s fine,” Perra said with a polite chuckle. “That’s just how he says hello.”

  Max covered his mouth with both hands, fighting the urge to vomit. Ross leapt from the ship and landed as every cat does, in total silence like a furry ninja. He moseyed out from behind Max’s legs, caught a glimpse of the vibrating flesh pillow, and poofed with fright.

  “Sweet mercy on a pogo stick, is that Phil?”

  “No, it’s his half-sister Alice.” Perra rolled her eyes. “Did you seriously just ask that question?”

  “I, um ... uh ...” His positronic brain refused to conjure a witty retort. He just stood there, poofed and gawking at the bouncy monstrosity.

  “Bacock!” Steve said from the airlock, then flapped his way towards the blob. He landed atop the mass and jerked his head from side to side with intense fascination. Sharp talons gripped the thick hide, allowing him to ride waves of quivering blubber. He dropped his beak to the bumpy skin and started pecking between the folds.

  Phil gasped. He unraveled Zoey with a fresh sheen of mucus and carefully reached for the snoodlecock as if a butterfly had landed on his nose. Steve eyed the encroaching tentacles with mounting concern. Phil shrieked like a toddler at a birthday party. “New touchie!” he said and slurped the bird into his bulk, expelling a puff of feathers.

  “That’s enough,” Zoey said, flinging strips of slime from her fingers.

  Phil extended a tentacle and pooped the snoodlecock onto the ground. Steve, also covered in mucus, trembled in the dirt as green ooze dripped from his beak. He climbed to his feet, took a measured breath, and shook his body like a dog out of the rain. Cords of slime flew everywhere. Zoey sighed as gooey impacts added to her own collection. Perra dodged the shower as best she could, but ended up with a few cringe-inducing dollops.

  “Ugh,” she said. “I was hoping to avoid this.”

  “Says the often-greasy mechanic,” Zoey said.

  “That’s different.”

  “How so?”

  Perra tilted her head, glanced over to Phil, then back to Zoey as if to say are you kidding me right now?

  Phil giggled like a schoolgirl and rolled towards Perra, prompting Ross to skitter beneath the ship. Perra sighed as a tentacle wrapped around her waist and plucked her from the ground. The sphincter of another engulfed her head and gave her a slimy swirly, turning two punky ponytails into a single clumped mess. She winced and spat as Phil lowered her back to the ground.

  “Ugh,” Perra said, wiping her face.

  “Serves you right,” Zoey said with a chuckle.

  Perra wrung some goo from her hair, then patted Phil’s quivering hide. “It’s good to see you too, buddy.”

  Zoey glanced around the area. “Where did Max go?”

  Having witnessed the horrifying greetings of a grabby meatbag, a terrified Max had retreated to the ship and hid inside an empty cargo container. But, he forgot that Phil was a telepath, rendering a clever hiding place not so clever at all. In fact, he had unknowingly wrapped himself as a gift box. Phil, having already relayed this to the group, awaited a green light to open said gift.

  Zoey gestured to the open airlock. “By all means, go get ‘em.”

  Phil squeed. “Aaaah ha ha ha goody goody goody!” He spun towards the ship, kicking up arcs of dirt. His massive body slammed into the side of the vessel, wedging itself in the airlock. His butt, or whatever part hung from the ship, wagged so hard that it shook the hull and creaked the landing gear. Tentacles shot out from the mass, hooked the crate, and yanked it outside. Max screamed as the box sailed through the air and thumped onto the ground. Phil lifted the crate overhead, flipped the lid, and dumped out a flailing Max. His body landed on Phil like a stuntman on an airbag.

  Phil froze.

  Max froze.

  The rest of the group traded puzzled glances.

  After a long and awkward silence, Phil raised a pair of tentacles, plucked Max from atop his bulk, and gently set him on the ground. A violent shiver shook the scrotal mass before rolling over to Zoey’s side. Phil sprouted a tentacle and pointed it at the Earthling. “That ... is disgusting.”

  Max, now standing by himself like a leper, examined his body for a heinous growth he never noticed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Phil tensed up, forming a multi-sided dice. “Holy hell, and that voice. Ugh, how can you stand being on the same ship with it?”

  Ross burst into laughter from behind a landing claw.

  “Oh he’s not that bad,” Perra said, offering a social olive branch. “He helps out around the ship. We even employ him as my grease monkey protégé.”

  Phil gasped. “You let him in the engine room? I hope you have enough disinfectant. Seriously, you might want to get your ship detailed.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Max said with the aid of jazz hands. “You ... are grossed out by me?”

  Phil leaned over to Zoey and whispered. “Does he not see the irony in that statement?”

  Ross wheezed between laughing fits.

  Steve decided to peck at random pebbles.

  “I thought you’d be thrilled,” Zoey said to Max. “You’re now immune to the entire reason why most beings in the universe avoid this planet.”

  Phil sprouted a few hands and started massaging Zoey’s shoulders.

  “Yeah, but ...” Max sulked a bit as he fought the sting of rejection. He sighed and stepped towards Phil. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”

  Phil jerked backwards. “Ew ew ew, keep it away!” His hulking mass grabbed Zoey and slid her between him and Max.

  Max frowned, kicked a pebble, and slogged back to the ship like a pouty child. He crawled into the airlock, glanced back with puppy dog eyes, then disappeared into the cargo bay. Ross wiped his eyes and trotted out from behind the landing gear.

  “Ooo!” Phil snatched the kitty with a shooting tentacle, drawing a meow-yelp. He cradled the feline to his leathery flesh like an evil mastermind hatching a plan. A collection of tiny hands sprouted from the bulk and stroked Ross from every angle. Ross locked eyes with Perra, screaming HELP ME under a shower of fingers.

  “Anyway,” Zoey said to Phil, “we’re in desperate need of intel. Do you have a less exposed place where we can talk? We’ve been marked by an unknown party and need your help.”

  “Can I keep holding the kitty?” Phil said.

  Ross, still eye-locked with Perra, shook his head.

  “Sure,” Perra said, adding a wink.

  Ross clenched his furry lips.

  “Tee hee!” The gaggle of hands hugged Ross in unison. “There’s a hidden cave system at the base of mountains to the northeast. Big enough for your ship, kind of musky, but there’s
a pretty waterfall and lots of interesting rocks. Follow me and bring a flashlight.” Ross yipped as Phil slurped him into his body and sped away.

  Zoey chuckled and hooked Perra’s hand. “Ross is never going to forgive you for that.”

  Perra smiled. “Probably not, but maybe it will soften his cocky attitude.”

  They strolled towards the ship with Steve clucking and prancing behind. Zoey hopped into airlock, offered a hand to Perra, then tromped up to the cockpit. Steve flapped into the cargo bay as the door slid shut. Thrusters ignited, lifting the ship from the rocky base. The vessel angled towards the mountains and kicked forward in pursuit.

  Behind a nearby outcrop, six of Frank’s eyes watched the freighter disappear over a hill.

  CHAPTER 8

  The tiny freighter cruised over a flawless mural, splashing ponds of algae with every bank and turn. Zoey followed Phil’s tracks with relative ease, due in most part to the fact that he was the only mobile critter on the planet. He carved through the soil like a turbo tractor, leaving small channels of pressed dirt behind him. The complete lack of trees and other plant life (besides algae of course) exposed his location to any visitor with a keen eye. However, the combination of global winds and seismic activity erased his tracks on a regular basis, like a vigorous shake of an Etch A Sketch.

  The vessel sailed around a bend and over a deep ravine. Phil’s tracks hugged the edge before plunging down a side slope. The ship followed, floating down to a babbling river. Smooth stones of all shapes and colors peeked through the crystal-clear water, creating a kaleidoscope of rippling light. A fresh canal of dirt snaked along the river edge towards a towering waterfall in the distance. Zoey and Perra lifted widened eyes to the mountainside far above where a gaping mouth showered water from an internal river system. The viewport fogged as the ship passed into a bank of hanging mist. Zoey enabled a pair of external wipers and slowed the ship to a comfortable approach.

  Just ahead, Phil pulsated at the base of the waterfall with a dampened Ross raised overhead. The cyborg feline hissed and scratched at the tentacles, causing them to jerk away and shake off the painful stings. With the ship in view, Phil slurped Ross back into his body cavity and spun through the waterfall, entering the hidden cave.

  Perra tapped some commands into the console, lifting a hologram grid of the cave system onto the viewport. Zoey slowed the ship to a hovering creep just above the river and slipped through the cascade. Columns of water pounded the vessel, giving it a much-needed rinse. Thrusters evaporated the falling water, creating a dense fog. Perra powered the external floodlights, illuminating the massive hollow. Beams of light bounced from surface to surface, reflecting the ship’s presence under a glaze of moisture. Small boulders littered a field of reddish mud. Enormous stalactites with sharp tips hung from a craggy ceiling. The engine rumble caused a few to sway in precarious manners. Perra puckered her face with mild concern as Zoey pushed forward at a cautious pace.

  Phil rolled up a small incline and into a secret room at the rear of the cavern, prompting Zoey to follow. She floated the ship through a narrow passageway and into the hidden hollow. Phil occupied the center of a round cave with Ross cradled to his flesh. He sprouted a thumbs-up, to which Zoey replied and lowered the landing gear. The vessel came to a rest atop a bed of soft gravel. She killed the thrusters as Perra powered down the ship. The external lights dimmed to a conversational hue as they lifted from their seats and tromped to the cargo bay.

  Max continued to pout upon a crate, his head lowered and hands folded. Thumbs twisted over one another as he struggled to come to grips with the rejection. Perra stopped in front of him and sighed.

  “Why on Tim’s Blue Terra are you still moping?”

  Max frowned. “How would you feel if an unfussy grab bag found you revolting?”

  Perra ran a hand through her clumpy hair and smacked his cheek with a slimy palm. “Relieved, to be honest.”

  Max cringed, unsure of what to be upset by the most.

  “The beacon scanner picked up nothing,” Zoey said as she emerged from the cockpit. “We should be clear to parle.”

  Perra snorted. “Parle? What are you, a pirate?”

  “Shut up, smartass. You know what I meant.”

  “Just breaking your beans, let’s go chat with Philly.” She glanced over to Max. “You too, Earthman. Get a move on.”

  Max groaned with the drama of a privileged preteen and lifted from the crate. The airlock door slid open and all four dropped to the soft gravel. The muggy air coated lungs and dampened skin, making for an unpleasant romp all around. The freighter sat in idle silence, casting cones of faint light into the cavern, like street lamps in the rain. The resulting shadows created a noir vibe, minus brimmed hats and the glow of cigars. The dull roar of the waterfall in the distance shrouded the meeting from any prying ears, an ideal spot for a shady discussion.

  They stepped over to Phil, making sure to settle within gossip range. Phil cradled Ross and rocked him back and forth like a newborn. Ross eyed the group through a bitter expression. He shook his head and mouthed I hate you so much to Perra, who smirked in response. Steve buried his head into the soft gravel for a moment, then jerked it free, flinging tiny pebbles onto Phil and everyone else. He did it again and again before Zoey grew weary and berated him. He flapped in response, freeing another batch of wayward feathers. Zoey glanced back at the tunnel entrance, took a deep breath, and returned her full attention to their bulbous friend.

  “Okay, so here’s the short and skinny. We stopped off at Durangoni Station for a resupply and learned from Gamon that I’ve been marked for assassination, presumably because I killed Halim.”

  “Uh huh,” Phil said, still stroking Ross.

  “The assassin, a gimp-suited butterball, tried to hit us at the station, but we narrowly escaped thanks to Steve, who is apparently a mind-shifter of sorts.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “We have no idea who the assassin is, who they work for, or why I’ve been targeted.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Furthermore, we have no idea who Steve is, or if there is any credibility to his story.”

  “Uh huh.”

  An inept silence fell upon the group. Zoey glanced over to Perra, who shrugged, then tossed back to Phil. She raised her brow and spread her palms.

  “Oh, sorry, my turn, okay, um ...” Phil placed Ross on the ground and gave him a friendly pat. Ross remained by his side with a stiff posture and irked gaze, like the creepy translator standing next to Jabba the Hutt. Phil sprouted a pair of professorial hands to accent each point. “Okay, so, first off of all, Steve is harmless. His story is completely true. Yarnwal, mind jumper, excessively long name, everything. He really is just mixed up in this whole thing. He saved your lives and you owe him one.”

  Perra nudged Zoey. “See?”

  “Thank you, kind brain pouch,” Steve said, then scraped his beak through the gravel. He flapped with each pass and flung pea-sized rocks everywhere.

  Perra batted away a few incomings. “Jeez, would you stop already?”

  Steve jerked his gaze up to Perra.

  “This is an inert planet, doofus. There’s nothing down there.”

  “Oh,” Steve said, then went back to digging.

  Zoey rolled her eyes.

  “Secondly,” Phil said. “It’s not a mark for assassination. It’s a mark for capture.”

  “Capture? By who?”

  “By the Suth’ra Society.”

  Perra expelled a huff of shock.

  Zoey slacked her jaw. “The Suth’ra want to kidnap me? Then why the hell were they shooting at us?”

  “No, not you. They don’t give two ballsacks about you ladies. They want him.” Phil pointed at Max behind them, now gagged and bound in the arms of a sneaking Frank. Phil waved excitedly. “Hi Frank!”

  Frank yipped and started sprinting towards the waterfall with Max underarm. Zoey and Perra gave immediate chase, kicking up pebbles. One of them plinked Steve
in the face, drawing a cluck and flap. He watched the pair round a bend in pursuit, then went back to digging for the sheer joy of digging. Phil scooped a petrified Ross from the ground and resumed his villainous petting.

  Frank skidded around a corner and into the main cavern. His lanky legs kicked up mud with every giraffe-like stride. Max squirmed beneath his arms, spewing muffled yawps and curses. Frank kept all eight eyes on the prize. The roar of the waterfall grew louder and louder with each wet stomp. His three lungs settled into a rhythm of huff, grunt, repeat. Zoey and Perra flowed into the main cavern like seasoned sprinters, gaining on him with every step. His rubbery torso twisted for a gander, then yelped at the sight of the closing Mulgawats. He kicked forward with a shot of rubagoo (the Gurbalurb equivalent of adrenaline) and tapped a comlink device attached to his ear.

  “Well if it isn’t the Viscid Aveng—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Fio! I need a yank!”

  “Status?”

  “Earthman acquired, The Omen in pursuit, give me a goddamn yank!”

  Fio sighed. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

  Despite the predicament, Frank managed to roll three of his eyes.

  “I’m on it, Frank,” Jerry said. “Stand by.”

  Frank glanced back at his pursuers, now within spitting distance. “Ah! Hurry!”

  “You’re moving too fast,” Jerry said. “We can’t lock you for teleport. You have to stop.”

  “Can’t stop,” Frank said through heavy panting. “What about The Omen in pursuit did you not underst—”

  A large hairy beast slammed into Frank from the side, knocking him off his feet. After a flight fit for slow-motion, Frank smacked the floor with a splash of mud. Momentum plucked Max from his grasp. He sailed through the air and thumped the ground, sliding to a stop against a boulder. He moaned in discomfort and managed to sound like a bitchy child even while bound and gagged. Frank squirmed in the muck, stunned and disoriented. Zoey and Perra glided to a stop in front of the intruder.