by Jeff Walsh
“Gah,” the old man blurted out. “Those blatnards move fast. I really need you three on the ship, now.”
“Sorry there stranger,” Anthony said as he stepped forward, gun drawn and pointed in the face of the old man.
“You're going to tell me what's going on, right now,” He demanded.
“Sorry to interrupt Bartl,” Alvin said, addressing the old man. “But the ships sensors confirm five PC Cross-Wings just beyond the planet's stratosphere. They're firing pulser blasts at the surface directly above our location. I believe they are attempting to create a cave-in.”
“Look,” Bartl said sternly. “Do you see those cracks? Well, the ships that were firing at us earlier are doing so again. They're attempting to keep us on the planet so that the Central Core can time-lock this rock. We have about four minutes to get our ship off the ground and beyond your atmosphere before that happens. So, either get on board or get frozen in time, but standing here doing nothing, it's no longer an option.”
“Phase system is online,” Alvin announced.
“Thank you Alvin,” Bartl said. “That'll be all. We need to get out here, now.”
Alvin turned and walked into the cargo bay and through a doorway leading into the ship.
The cavern shook once more, this time slightly more violently. A large chunk of rock fell free above the ship. As it slammed down, a yellow light covered the craft. Small hexagonal shapes could be seen within the light. The rock shattered and crumbled around the light, never coming into direct contact with the ship.
The trio flinched as they watched the massive chunk of rock crash down.
It was the distraction Bartl needed.
From under his shirt he produced a rather menacing looking gun. It was polished to a mirror finish and had a fan of five, long cylindrical tubes across the top. The butt of the gun was rather large and shaped like an egg. As it tapered off the barrel was formed, which extended out about ten inches. Encircling the barrel were ten silver discs. As the trigger was pulled, the five cylinders lit up and focused a beam of purple light at the tip of the gun. Each disc began to glow a soft blue and a moment later a pulse of energy rocketed outward toward the trio.
The trio returned their attention to Bartl just in time to see the air around them go wavy. Then everything went black.
҉
Marcus was the last to open his eyes, but only by a fraction of a second. As Genny, Anthony, and Marcus awoke, the sight before them was slightly boring yet completely terrifying: a room with a beige ceiling, which had a slight curve to it. The lighting in the space was gentle and pleasantly soothing. It was not however, the cave they'd previously been in, nor was it any room they were familiar with.
“Sorry about the Snoozalator friends,” Alvin chimed in, “we needed to get going. But at least you're all rested up and comfy cozy for our trip.”
“Snoozalator?” Anthony mumbled out.
“Oh yes,” Alvin answered. “The Snoozalator is a wonderful invention designed specifically for the inhabitants of Snoozolaptic VII. On Snoozolaptic VII, it is imperative that falling asleep be done forcibly, for no Snoozapalonian ever wants to go to sleep voluntarily. Therefore, the good people at Gadgets, Gizmos, and Everything You Could Ever Want Company designed the Sonic Snoozalator. A simple pull of the trigger and anyone within the twenty mile cone-shaped blast zone, who doesn’t want to sleep, falls asleep on the spot. As it happened to be, the cavern housing the spaceship was exactly twenty one miles away from the nearest residence.
“An interesting design in the Snoozalator” Alvin continued, “is its performance capabilities. Those who have a greater desire to stay awake are effected by it far more severely. In fact, if falling sleep is the exact thing you do not want to do when the trigger is pulled, the Snoozalator will put you to sleep for roughly ten hours. This explains why it's been around ten hours since we left your planet.”
At the sound of Alvin's voice the memories of the cave, the old man, his giant robot, and spaceship rushed to the forefront of the trio's minds. As feared, they'd been kidnapped. What they hadn't expected was that they were taken to a rather relaxing room, and apparently laid to rest on very cozy beds.
“Did you just kidnap us?” Genny asked with a surprisingly relaxed tone.
She knew there should be a feeling of panic, yet something about the room was keeping her rather calm.
“Yes we did,” Alvin answered, “and you couldn’t have chosen a better ship to be kidnapped on than the illustrious Platnium IV Luxury Model. Equipped with on-board relaxation, positive reinforcement sound waves, and the coveted stress relieving steam bath of Cartin III. We are traveling like royalty my friends.”
“Where are we, and why have you taken us?” Marcus asked, still lying in bed, facing the ceiling, refusing to actually look around the room.
“Well, we're currently leaving the Milky Way headed for Praktius in the Zeldan quadrant,” Alvin answered.
“We’re in space?” Marcus asked.
He shut his eyes with no intention of opening them again.
“Sure thing friends,” Alvin cheerfully answered. “If you look out of the windows the Platnium IV just created for each of you, I'm sure you will see some familiar planets.”
A moment of silence passed as Anthony and Genny turned to look. Marcus, however, continued to keep his eyes shut.
“We’re in space,” Genny stated as she sat up and planted her feet on the remarkably soft carpet. “You’re that robot from the cavern, and we're in a spaceship. In space.”
“Your ability to state the obvious is amazing,” Alvin said. “Now everyone in the room is absolutely clear about our current situation.”
The current state of being kidnapped on the same day they learned aliens were real, and that space travel was actually something that happened outside of sci-fi movies was too much for the trio.
Alvin watched as the trio passed out. It was about fifteen minutes later when the trio woke up once again, and Marcus still refused to open his eyes.
“Robot are you still here?” Marcus asked.
“Yes good buddy I am. Isn’t that exciting?” Alvin responded.
“Genny, Anthony? Are you two still here?” Marcus asked rolling over to his side, bracing himself for whatever it is his eyes would see whenever he decided to open them.
“Yup we are,” Anthony answered
“And we're still in space?” Marcus continued to question. “With an overly friendly robot who seems to love everything?”
“That’s the way I'm seeing it,” Genny answered this time.
“Should I open my eyes and get out of this bed?” Marcus asked, not caring what the answer would be.
“Good friends if you'll allow me to interrupt this very bonding conversation you're having,” Alvin interjected. “I would just like to mention that as soon as you feel up to it, I can escort you to the kitchen for some amazingly delicious food.”
“Robot wants to feeds us,” Marcus announced, eyes still shut.
“Yeah, I heard,” Anthony responded
“Think we should?” Marcus asked.
“I’m a bit hungry,” Genny answered.
“Okay,” Marcus announced, “on three then. One…two…three.”
Just then he spun around, sat upright, and planted his feet firmly on the ground.
Genny watched as his face puzzled. “Carpet's really soft, isn't it?”
He nodded in agreement then looked around the room trying desperately to ignore Alvin who stood only a few feet away. It was only a few passing moments before the group realized they were no longer wearing the clothing they had on previously.
“I'm in different clothes,” Marcus said, his voice rather monotone.
“Hey, check that out. We all are,” Anthony confirmed.
“Uhh, where'd these come from, and who changed me?” Genny asked no one in particular. Her tone carrying a slight hint of panic.
“Robot?” Anthony started, “Do I call you robot?”
“Isn’t your name Alvin?” Genny asked.
“Yes ma’am it is, and thank you so much for remembering. It means a lot.”
“Right. Alvin,” Anthony continued, “where'd these clothes come from and where'd our old one's go?”
“What a great question friend,” Alvin's voice sprang out in excitement. “As we brought you on board, the ship's computer atomized the clothing you had on while simultaneously fitting each of you with Bond-o-Threads. Any outfit you wish to be wearing, or need to wear, is sensed by the materials on-board telekinetic sensors. It then creates the perfect attire for each individual wearer. Bond-o-Threads never tear or wear out. They never need to be cleaned and they're all yours. Isn’t that just great?”
“These clothes are self-cleaning?” Marcus asked.
“Absolutely,” Alvin responded.
“How is that possible?” Marcus muttered as he pinched at the cloth.
“Of course the first thing he does is try to figure out it works.” Anthony blurted out. “Marcus, are you not listening? These are space clothes. They can tell what we want to wear, and becomes that. That's freaking cool.”
“You got it right buddy,” Alvin answered.
“Formal wear,” Genny blurted out excitedly as the three stood from their beds.
A quick burst of smoke covered their forms and quickly dissipated.
The three looked down and found themselves now dressed in exquisite formal attire.
“Beach clothing,” Anthony yelled happily.
Another burst of smoke and the three were now set to go to the beach.
“Robotic and deep space survival gear,” Marcus muttered.
Just as quick, the beach attire vanished only to be replaced by Marcus' request.
The trio were now in full, deep space, military survival gear, with anti-atomic shielding and fully automated, thought driven, shoulder mounted pulse rifles.
“Marcus!” Genny yelled, slightly concerned with offending Alvin, but mostly afraid of provoking him into a full blown rampage at which point he rips them limb from limb, or atomizes them, or whatever it is that robots do when they're provoked.
“Casual clothing,” Marcus said blandly.
Once more the smoke came and went leaving the trio wearing a very comfortable set of personalized casual attire.
“Alright, that's kind of cool,” Marcus said.
“Kind of cool?” Anthony blurted out. “You're ridiculous. This is amazing.”
“Glad you like it sir,” Alvin said gleefully.
“Hey Alvin,” Anthony began, “are you always this happy?”
“What a great question new friend,” Alvin responded, “and the answer is: yes. I was programmed with the Positive On-board System: Affirmation and Happiness packet when I was brought online.”
“So do you ever get angry or upset?” Genny asked.
“Goodness no,” Alvin answered back. “Why would I when there is so much good to see in everything.”
“Well then, you happy go lucky, person, robot,” Anthony said as he fumbled for the correct words. Quickly trying to cover his folly he changed the subject. “So, where's this kitchen at?”
“I have a question I'd like to ask real quick,” Marcus chimed in. “It's probably one of the more important questions that no one seems to be asking. And don't misunderstand Alvin, these clothes are great, and we really appreciate them, but, are we prisoners? Like, are we going to be killed, or ransomed off, or anything horrible like that?”
“Oh yeah, that's a good one,” Anthony said, sounding rather excited to hear the answer. “Are you planning on killing us?”
“Oh my goodness! Never my new friends,” Alvin said, sounding horrified at the thought. “You're our guests and no one on this ship is planning on killing any of you silly people.”
“Well there ya go,” Anthony said, gesturing toward Marcus, and back to Alvin. “Giant robot is all sunshine and puppies, not killing us, and knows where we can get some food. I say let's do it.”
“Sure why not,” Marcus said, as he completely gave up any notion of foul play. “We've only been knocked unconscious, and had our clothes were stripped from us. That, of course, was right after we were kidnapped and then thrown onto a spaceship. The act that we're headed to some place we've never heard of isn't a problem at all, right? Why wouldn’t we go eat?”
With that, the trio, along with Alvin, set off to the kitchen.
As they passed a dozen or more corridors, one of the motion sensing doors whooshed open revealing an arsenal of weapons: dozens of futuristic looking missiles, and quite a few objects with different colored lights eminating from them.
“Hey, Alvin,” Marcus stopped and pointed into the terrifying room that just opened up. “Why is there a room full of things for killing?”
“What a great question,” Alvin responded. “That's the ship's arsenal, which is standard on every space bearing vessel. But of course the Platnium IV's arsenal is fully stocked with the rarest assault weaponry known in the universe. We have over three hundred tactical blasters, each of which has been fitted with atmo-sensitive, self producing, high caliber rounds. Then there are the spacial torpedoes and multidimensional warp gates equipped with static shock bombs, motion vacuum gates, and bio-molecular neutralizers, just to name a few.”
“Oh, of course,” Marcus said.
“Don't worry good sir,” Alvin said. “You're about to become very familiar with everything in that room shortly.” Turning, Alvin proceeded down the hallway once again.
“Oh good,” Marcus said watching Alvin walk away. After a few moments, he looked at Genny and Anthony and whispered, “We're going to die.”
Just then a flash of movement within the arsenal caught Marcus' eye.
He turned his head slightly attempting to see what it was that was moving.
“You okay?” Genny asked.
“I saw something,” Marcus said.
Just then the trio saw a small silver critter run across the floor.
“Hey Alvin,” Anthony called out.
Alvin turned to face the group, “Yes my good friends, what can I do for you?”
“You get rodents out here in space?” Anthony asked.
“No sir,” Alvin answered. “But what a clever and funny joke.”
Just then the tiny silver rodent bolted across the floor once again.
“Well,” Marcus chuckled. “I hate to break it to you, but it looks like you have a mouse problem.”
The trio watched as Alvin turned and started back toward them. In a blur of speed the small silvery rodent bolted out of the room. Simultaneously, Alvin leapt forward. The rodent dodged left and Alvin's foot crashed to the ground.
“What the?” Marcus blurted out.
“We have an intruder,” Alvin's voice came over the ships speaker system. “The ship is under attack. Activate counter track maneuvers.”
Red lights fell from the ceiling and began spinning. An alarm rang throughout the corridors.
“Confirmed,” said a rather robotic female voice. “A tracker-rat is aboard and traveling east in corridor nine, section C.”
“Computer,” Alvin said addressing the female voice. “Seal a perimeter around corridors seven through nine, all sections.”
“Task complete,” the computer said.
The tracker-rat spun on the spot and darted back toward the trio. All three sprung out of the way.
“I do apologize good friends,” Alvin announced. “But if you'd be so kind, could you not let that cute, but extremely dangerous creature out of your sight.”
Without hesitation, Anthony and Genny sped after the thing. Marcus sighed and followed shortly after. The group chased the rat around three turns then down a rather long hallway. The rat faked left, but suddenly shot right down another corridor. The group stumbled for a moment and turned the corner. The rat was gone.
The t
rio paused.
“Dang it!” Anthony yelled. “Where'd it go?”
“This corridor is too long, at the speed it was moving there's no way it made it to the end the hallway already,” Genny said.
Marcus caught up to the group, his breathing labored.
“Where is it?” He asked.
“Somehow we lost it.” Genny answered.
The group stood unmoving for a second.
Thump, they heard.
Then a moment of silence.
Thump, came once again.
“You hear that?” Marcus asked.
“Where's it coming from?” Anthony responded.
Thump.
“Look!” Genny belted out.
She pointed down the hall, toward the floor.
The group darted toward the area where Genny pointed. They stopped flat as they realized what they saw.
“It's a hole,” Anthony said. “It busted through the wall.”
Thump, came again, this time higher and louder.
“No!” Marcus announced. “Not through, into.”
The small silvery rat burst out of the wall and zipped overhead.
They dropped to the floor and watched as the rodent darted back the way it came.
The three jumped to their feet and sped after it. The rat made a sharp left and a few moments later the trio turned after it. It was already half way down the hall.
“There,” Genny yelled as she pointed at it.
They heard a whooshing sound to their immediate right, and the three jumped.
Alvin stepped through a doorway.
“Alvin,” Anthony pointed. “It's down there.”
Alvin sped after the rodent and the trio followed close behind. They watched as Alvin made a sharp right as he nearly closed in on the rodent.
The trio turned the corner.
Alvin was stopped only a few feet into the corridor. The three attempted to stop, but slid momentarily, just past Alvin. They righted themselves and looked down the hall. The old man, Bartl, was at one end, with a very large rifle held in his hands. It had three silver barrels that were attached to a thick disc filled with some sort of orange smoke. Between the group and Bartl was the tracker-rat, unmoving, but facing Bartl.
