by J. Naomi Ay
"Rent de Kudisha?" Joanne sighed and rubbed her head, where a massive headache was starting to pound.
"No, Rent Golden," Trudy insisted. "What? Do you think he's really the Imperial Prince? Oh my." Trudy giggled, "Wouldn't that be a kick?"
Although, Joanne had never met Rent personally, she knew Steve better than just about anyone else. He had been Sam's best man at her wedding and likewise, Sam had stood up at his, not to mention, Joanne had briefly taken care of his daughter, Sara.
Joanne, being the pragmatic woman that she was, never believed in coincidence or happenstance. There was a reason she was stuck here, sitting with this odd duck, Trudy, in a spacebase bar while Sam was lost somewhere and maybe dead.
Jerry Moonbeam was at the Space Sailor's Bar having a beer. Lester was drinking a screwdriver, while Michael, a martini. A football match was on the overhead vid, although the Jerry couldn't hear word, as the bar was overcrowded and the dust storm raged outside.
Occasionally, a shower of rocks pelted against the windows. Once or twice, a huge boulder crashed into tiny shards. Briefly, Jerry looked up and reminded himself of similar times in space. This was nothing, only inclement weather, nothing to be concerned. It would blow over in a few hours, and they'd be on their way.
Lester was feeling better, which was a good thing, and Michael seemed totally calm and unperturbed. Only Jerry was still anxious, although he wasn't sure exactly why, but it seemed as if everything was slightly out of focus.
Either that, or Jerry was in the midst of a minor stroke. He flexed his fingers, wiggled his toes and rubbed his neck. All appendages appeared to be working fine, except for the ambient noise which was slightly out of tune and grated on his nerves like a bell continuously chiming in the back of his brain.
"Let me tell you, Doc," Les was lecturing Michael. "Every spine problem known to man comes from wearing the wrong shoes. Support for your arches and inner soles. That's the key to good posture and your overall health. I bet they didn't teach you that in med school."
"Nope," Michael replied, glancing around. He was tired of this conversation with Lester, and this layover in space was like hell.
Frankly, he had never liked his cousin, Jerry. There was a reason they hadn't spoken in more than twenty years. Jerry was always the baby of the family, and a spoiled brat. When they were kids, Michael did everything he could to make Jerry cry. He'd pull his hair, punch him, or steal his cookie. That usually ended with Michael getting punished, while Jerry was coddled and kissed in Grandma's lap. Of course, this made Michael want to hit him even more. Glancing over at his cousin now, Michael decided he hated Jerry just as much.
In truth, Michael preferred to be alone. When he went to a bar, he liked to sit alone and nurse his drink. He'd have a long conversation with the bartender if he felt like talking, or if a pretty girl showed up, he'd give it a shot.
However, that usually ended in a fail. Michael had more drinks poured into his lap than he could recall, which is why he still lived alone with his nobody but his Yorkie dogs.
In the mirrored glass of the bar, Jerry saw some women at a neighboring table. One was short and plain with large glasses on her nose. The other was tall and slim with long brown hair knotted back in a bun, and a face that Jerry recalled from years ago.
“That can't be Caroline,” he muttered to himself, while rubbing his neck again, checking for a lump that might be there. He could hear the women's voices, although they sounded muffled, as if they were speaking in a jar. This made Jerry wonder, once again, he was in trouble. “Michael,” he nudged his cousin in the ribs, “Michael, do I look alright to you? Can you check the pupils of my eyes? Maybe, I should have a couple aspirin?”
“What?” Michael turned away from Lester, and watched the neighboring table as the brunette stood and walked away.
"Wait up, Joanne!" Trudy jumped up to follow. Actually, she stumbled to her feet and for a moment, swayed around. She couldn't recall how many drinks she had imbibed, although the collection of empty glasses indicated at least six. "I'm coming with you," she called, wobbling across the floor, knocking into a few tables and chairs while en route.
Was the exit door over here? No. That's the men's room. Oops, sorry, dude. That way? Oh, right. I see the mall.
Trudy tripped out into the terminal, where the lights were dim, and the air was cold and refreshing. This was good as her head had started to sweat, and she was getting dizzy. Her stomach lurched once or twice, so Trudy decided to sit on a bench and wait it out.
"Are you looking for someone?" An old blue Andorian woman asked.
Trudy focused hard, only to realize they were sharing the same bench. The Andorian was eating froyo, which smelled incredibly bad.
"The truth is I'm looking for Rent Golden,” Trudy admitted, a sob erupting from her chest. She couldn't help it. She was drunk, and in love. "I want him to ride up on a beautiful white horse and carry me off to his castle in the sky where we'll live happily ever after and make tons of babies."
Pym had no clue why this Human was weeping, or why anyone would want tons of babies in the sky.
"There are no horses in space," Pym replied, as this was the most definitive response she could offer. Then, she rose to her feet and returned to her Kwikie Mart, her cash register, and her dreams of another life.
Chapter 10
So far, the flight of the Imperial Spaceplane was proceeding along just fine. They were a little more than two hours outside of the Capital Planet en route to Rozari. The plane was a brand new SdK TurboMax 878. Sam had read about it when it was featured in a spread in AeroSpaceplane Weekly Magazine. He had been very impressed with new plane's composite construction, and the intuitive, touchless dynamic controls, as well as the anti-glare screen over the cockpit's windshield.
Sam thought the 878 was the most beautiful spaceplane ever made. He had cut out the centerfold from the magazine and hung it on the wall above his bed. At night, he had dreamed of flying her and now, here he was, his dream come true. Perhaps, this was why he had been selected for this assignment all along. Maybe it was a reward for his many years of dedicated service, or it could be that his old friendship with Steve had played a part. In any case, Sam decided he had nothing to fear. This was a reward, and not a death sentence after all.
The Imperial Family was safely ensconced in the aft where they shared four luxurious cabins and a lounge. Two android flight attendants were operational and available to attend to their every need while Sam's orders had been to leave the Family alone. He was not to attempt to speak to them unless they initiated the conversation, so there had been no interaction with Sam who was locked in the cockpit.
However, while completing his pre-flight check prior to take-off, Sam had heard their voices as they boarded the plane. Steve and Rent were discussing that movie about the Luminerian woman, who had an affair with a Bagmagian man, and they were wondering if it would be available on their in-flight video system.
Sara was telling Katie about a game she liked to play, while Katie made the appropriate noises in response. Sam didn't hear the Emperor speak, although everyone else shut up when he came aboard, which was just as well, since Sam didn't want to hear them anyway.
The first time the cockpit door opened, Sam wasn't concerned. As expected, it was just an android flight attendant inquiring if he wanted a meal. Sam had been too nervous to eat much before this flight, so he ordered a vegetarian platter with everything green. With all this apprehension and anxiety, his stomach had been acting up. In fact, for several days now, Sam had been suffering some pains. He ate his lettuce and broccoli followed by four antacids and some soda, which usually cured his problem, but not so today.
A couple of hours later when the door opened again, Sam still wasn't concerned, as it was just his old friend, Steve.
"Sir!" Sam jumped up from his seat.
"Chill, dude." Steve slapped Sam on the back in that way which was just a little too hard. "How's it going, buddy? I'm glad you could chauffeur
us on this ride."
"Good, Stevie. Thanks. I'm glad too." The men exchanged some pleasantries, asking about each other's family and kids. "Are you ever going to fly again?" Sam wondered as Steve sat down at the com.
"Nah," Steve replied, a bit whimsically. "They've got me busy at the Palace flying a desk. I'm in charge of requests and acquisitions. I sign this and stamp that with my OK. I can't get myself into trouble, or kill anybody that way, but I've got to tell you, Sam, it's boring as hell."
Sam nodded sympathetically, noting how Steve's hands were hovering over the controls. He could see the longing in his Imperial Friend's face.
"You want to drive for a few minutes?" Sam offered. "She's really a sweet thing."
Steve shook his head and put his hands down in his lap.
"I can't. I'm not licensed. Furthermore, could you imagine the fall out if I crashed this plane? My entire fucking family is riding in the back. If we all died right now, it might launch a civil war. Anyway," he stood up and slapped Sam again, "that's not going to happen because you're here in charge. See ya later, Sam, and send my regards to the lovely Joanne."
As Steve left, Sam's stomach began to throb again, so he swallowed four more antacids and another glass of soda. He tried some meditation and biometric feedback too, which had worked once or twice in the past.
Sam chanted, 'I know what I'm doing. Everything will be just fine. I have no reason to be nervous. I won't crash this plane.'
In fact, as Sam tried to convince himself of this, the cockpit door opened yet again, and now Sam knew with absolute certainty that his time had come.
"Why me?" Sam wanted to know. "What did I do to deserve this fate?"
"'Tis not what you did, Sam," the Emperor replied. He had a cigarette on his lip, and the smoke was wafting into the cabin air as he sat down next to Sam. Leaning back, he crossed one leg over another, adjusting his robes around himself, the two Firestone rings on his fingers sending off sparks.
Shyly, Sam glanced up at the Imperial Man's face, surprised to discover how differently he appeared. In fact, the Emperor's countenance was incredibly altered. Sam eyes grew wide as he realized that all the rumors had been true, for sitting before him was Sehron de Kudisha, but also someone else.
"You're…" Sam started to say.
"I am who I am, and though it pleases me not, at times I must perform these dreaded tasks."
This epiphany made Sam feel marginally better, although it did nothing to quell his stomach pain.
"Can you tell me why it is I have to die?"
"You're all part of an immense mystical plan. Whilst it may seem that there is no rhyme or reason to your death, your passing shall effect a chain reaction. In order for the plan to be carried out and time to happen in the way it is supposed to be, you must now depart from this life. You were a good man, Sam. You have a reason to be proud. I thank you for your service to this Empire and wish you peace."
"Thank you, Sir," Sam replied humbly as the pain in his gut grew more intense. "What's happening to me now, if you don't mind?"
"Your appendix has ruptured and is spreading toxins throughout your bodily cavities. Patience. It should be only a few moments more."
"You could stop it," Sam suggested. "You could let me live, couldn't you?"
"I could, but I'm afraid I won't. If I had to spare everyone who wanted to stay, this entire universe would be standing room only from door to door, and as I said before, this is how it must be for you."
Sam was, of course, disappointed, but like an officer of the Empire, he accepted his fate.
"Will you give a message to my wife and kids? Tell them I love them all and not to cry too much."
"What do I look like, Sam, the postal service?"
"Well, no, Sir. You look like…"
"Sorry, but that's not my job either. Those sorts of messages are handled by lackeys and underlings. Well, Sam, I'll leave you to your misery." The Emperor stood up and extinguished his cigarette. "If you stop fighting, it shall go much quicker. Just relax and try to enjoy your last few breaths, as your mother-in-law is waiting to greet you on the other side."
"Does that mean I'm going to Hell?"
The Emperor shrugged and walked away.
"One's celestial destination is just a matter of perspective."
While Sam was moaning and writhing on the cockpit floor, Katie bolted awake in her stateroom bed. She flicked on the bedside light to discover she was alone.
"Senya?" Katie yelled at the bathroom door. "Are you in there?"
"No. I'm outside smoking on the roof."
"Very funny," Katie snapped. "Although with you, I wouldn't be surprised. It's chilly out in space so wear your hat and coat, and socks and shoes." Katie turned off the light, and tried again to sleep, but something kept niggling at the back of her brain. Gathering her robe and slippers, she crept out into the corridor.
"What's the matter?" Shika asked as she joined him in the lounge. He was sitting in an armchair and staring at the vid. An enormous bowl of popcorn was set before him on the table while Rent was sound asleep on a neighboring couch.
"I don't know," Katie responded. "But, I feel like something is. It's my intuition, which I know is always wrong. Just to be sure, I'm going to check on Sam."
"He's fine," Shika assured her while putting the movie on pause. "There isn't a more competent pilot in the entire SpaceNavy fleet."
"You're probably right," Katie agreed, as she was worrying way too much.
For a moment, she considered going back to bed. On the other hand, she thought, this could be a good bonding time between Shika and herself, as their relationship had grown distant over the past few years.
Katie sat down to watch the flick, anticipating a good talk with her oldest son, while the movie played casually in the background. However, Katie had arrived just as that bedroom scene came on, and that Luminerian woman unbuttoned her blouse to reveal that lovely, third arm.
"Give me a break," Katie scoffed. "Shika, how can you watch this kind of crap?"
"It's a good movie," Shika replied. "And, it's highly rated."
Now, the Bagmagian man was unwrapping his second head, while the woman's arms reached out to offer assistance.
"I once dated a Luminerian woman," Shika recalled. "She even looked like that. I admit, it was a bit of a surprise. But, hey, three hands have an advantage over two."
"Stop it! I don't want to hear about that." Katie jumped up having decided that she had Shika had bonded quite enough.
Skipping the rest of the movie, she headed once again to the cockpit door. Katie knocked three times and waited politely
"Sam?" she called after a minute or two. "Sam? Are you alright in there? Sam, do you mind if I come in?" Sliding open the door, the Empress was met with a terrible surprise.
"Senya!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, which prompted Shika and groggy Rent to hurry to her side. They all gazed inside the cockpit at Sam, who was sprawled out upon the floor. His limbs were frozen in midair and his coloring had become a deep, forest green.
"What do you think?" Rent asked Shika while they waited for their dad to join them.
"Doesn't look good," Shika replied. "But, Dad's the doctor, not me."
"He is?" Rent had been unaware of yet another of his father's many talents, although a doctor at this point would be of no use to Sam.
Dressed in his bathrobe and his dark glasses, Senya arrived to gaze down upon the frozen corpse.
"He's dead," Senya pronounced, as if there were any doubts.
"That's it?" Katie shrieked. "Can't you do something here?"
"How many times do I have to explain to you that death is a permanent state? Once it occurs, even I can't reverse it. Rent, summon the androids and have him bagged, otherwise this plane will soon smell like hell. Shika, you had better sit down and drive, as we are about to encounter a dust storm of immense proportions."
"I don't have a license," Shika muttered, stepping over Sam and taking the Com.
>
"I'll drive," Katie snapped. "Where's the button to engage?"
"You don't have a license either," Shika protested, wrestling with his mother for control. "And, you haven't flown anything in thirty years."
"Twenty. So, what's your point? Flying is like riding a bike. It's a skill you learn and never forget. And, who cares about a license? You think, they're going to arrest us? Sit down. You and I will fly this plane together."
"Is that safe?" Rent asked quietly.
"Not at all," his father replied. "But, at the moment, the alternative is significantly worse."
"Holy shit!" Shika gasped. "That dust storm is huge! We're going to have to divert. Where's the nearest spacebase in this sector?"
"41-B," Katie responded while looking at the chart. "I remember 41-B. That's where your father used to meet me every time I got off on leave. Senya, do you remember when we were in the lift, and it got stuck between two floors?"
"Ay yah. How could I forget? That was fun."
"How could being stuck in an elevator be fun?" Rent wondered as his parents chuckled and smiled knowingly.
"Dude!" Shika snapped, while staring intently at the controls, trying to figure out how to redirect the spaceplane's vector. They were about to be sucked into the giant cloud of dust which would clog their intake and stall the plane. "Don’t ask them to start reminiscing. Just assume whatever they were doing, you don’t want to know. Trust me. I've been around them a lot longer than you."
"Ok," Rent agreed, watching the androids cart Sam's body away. Meanwhile down the hall, a door opened and Sara emerged.
"What's everybody doing here?" She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Hey Steve, can I drive the plane for a few minutes, too?"
"We're family bonding," Shika replied.
"No, you may not fly the plane," Katie said.
"Let's go sit in back," Rent suggested. "We can pray that we don't crash."
“Only if we can play games too,” Sara said. “Then, I’ll go.”
