“I get it,” he exclaimed. “We’re supposed to be Tina Dillfreb and her Titanic Tower of Terriers.”
“Machinists are so smart,” cooed Uvi. “I’ll bet you know about robots and every-thing.” Noodles beamed at the mention of his favorite topic, barely noticing the sour look Rocky was throwing his way. Getting in front of the pair of gobs before anything could come of it, either, Uvi said;
“All right, now we’re going to just march out there right past them all, just a big happy bunch of girls and canines, right everybody?”
Rocky and Noodles agreed, as did Melon, Shirley, and the others as translation spread through the pack. With the last pseudo-terrier nod, Uvi opened the door and the lot of them poured out into the hallway. The diva led the way, throwing her ample self in front of the first curious eyes of authority they met. A slight chill ran through her as she saw the enormous extent to which curiosity was running that day.
Flipping the “flirt” switch within her head, the singer sauntered, doing the best she could to attract all license-to-hurt attention to herself. Rocky and Noodles, doing their best to herd the orphans along, trying at the same time to keep up a light and breezy falsetto chatter, followed behind, keeping their all-too-stubbly faces averted from the police, military and otherwise, filling the hallway. As they approached the exit, they found two disagreeable officers arguing with one another.
“I don’t understand the problem,” growled the one. “We know they’re from an Earth ship—the Franklin. You should have the bio-reads of everyone from that tub by now.”
“But, Sir,” answered the other, “I keep trying to tell you—we checked every registry in port. There’s no ship, Earther or otherwise, called the Franklin in dock. The closest name is the Felkinsku, but that’s a Saurian wine merchant freighter, methane breathers.” As Rocky and Noodles smiled to one another, the superior of the two of-ficers growled;
“And what do you, ah . . . ladies, find so funny?” Trusting his chances at making female sounds better than Rocky’s, Noodles cocked his wrist limply and tittered; “Ohhh, you big, strong man, you—I knew there was someone out here just dying to take me to dinner. Rocklina, be a dear and take the puppies out on your own. The general here has eyes for me.”
Taking a good look at the eye-batting, lip-pursing Noodles, the officer blanched, practically knocking his underling over in his haste to clear a path to the door. Sticking his nose in the air with as offended an attitude as possible, Noodles sniffed appro-priately, then followed the others out the door. Once outside, Rocky laughed;
“Didn’t know you made such a good dame, little buddy. I’ll have to keep that in mind for those lonely nights once were back out in the black.” As Uvi hailed a passing cab, Noodles glared at Rocky through his eye makeup and snarled;
“And I’ll be certain to let everyone on board know this new fact about you. There are more than a few members of the crew with enough ‘alternate’ wardrobe choices to keep you happy for years, I suspect.”
“Bet they’re all machinists, too.”
The pair were about to contemplate taking things a step beyond the playful when a cab willing to risk nine hounds stopped for them. Piling inside, the kids all giggling with glee as they threw themselves onto the floor, doing their collective best to bark in their nine different accents, Uvi gave the driver a destination then turned to the boys. Settling her various appendages around her, she asked;
“Not that I’m not grateful, but why is it those two at the door couldn’t find your ship?”
The swabbies smiled once more. As Rocky’s laughter attracted Fork and Bubbles who both piled into his lap, soon followed by most of the others as he started tickling and growling at the first pair, Noodles explained;
“Our ship is really the Roosevelt. But, those what named her never said which Roosevelt she was named for. You see, back on our planet, there were two great men, Franklin and Theodore Roosevelt. On ship, there’s those of us that say she was named for Teddy, and others who insist it was Frank. So, whenever we hit a new port, we Teddies cause as much trouble as we can pretending to be Franks, and then they do it to us.” The machinist laughed shortly, then added;
“I guess it sounds a little stupid.”
“Whether it is or isn’t, it saved your bacon back there.”
“They got bacon on this planet,” asked Rocky with the mention of his favorite dessert. About to answer, Uvi suddenly went silent as her eyes caught sight of something out of the back of the cab. Squinting to make certain of what she had seen, she turned around to the driver, shouting;
“Triple the meter if you can outrun what’s coming.”
“What you are seeing and I am seeing,” the driver asked, his fingers already imple-menting a speed shift, “this thing we are seeing, it is coming for you?” “It’s coming for ‘us,’ darling, and it’s probably coming with the idea of shooting first and talking about it later. So unless you were thinking of jumping out at the next corner . . . ”
“Your meaning is clear, good lady.”
Turning around as one, Rocky and Noodles got a gander at what Uvi and the driver had already seen. As the cab blasted forward, nearly doubling its speed, Noodles offered;
“Make that quadruple—I’ve got money, too.”
“Me, three—and I want to live to spend it,” added Rocky. “By the blessed blue suede shoes of the King, what’s goin’ on around here?” Looking down at their charges, Noodles mused;
“Must be one damn good soup they were going to make.” Rocky glared at his partner, who shrugged his shoulders, protesting;
“What? I’m just saying . . . ”
Further talk was obscured as the first of the Antagonizers let loose a shot which tore large sections of street up behind their cab. The ships were a matched pair of Danierian design, a fact not lost on anyone in the cab. After a few more shots were fired, each barely missing their vehicle, the driver said;
“Luckily these are some very bad shots, yes?” Shaking her head, Uvi replied;
“No such luck—they’re herding us.”
Rocky and Noodles looked at each other grimly. Both the machinist and the gunnery officer knew she was correct. Rolling up the crushed silk sleeve of his blouse until the tattoo of an anchor on his upper arm showed, Rocky said;
“Well, little buddy, I’m thinkin’ this is it.”
“We all have to go sometime.” The pair nodded one to another, touched fists, then Rocky shouted to the driver;
“Get ready to slow enough to let us jump out. We’re gonna try and stop those mugs.” Uvi started to protest. The orphans all started to squeal. The driver hit the brakes.
“I didn’t mean for you to come to a complete stop, ya boob!”
“No sir, I am certain you did not,” answered the driver. “But, I am thinking that they did.”
Following the directional path of the cabby’s pointing digit, the swabbies found their path blocked by more firepower than that possessed by many small planets. The Antagonizers rounded the same corner, saw what awaited them, and attempted to break off pursuit. One was vaporized, the other was sent crashing into a billboard advertising the great deals to be had at Lapine’s Luxury Liquors. Poking his head out of his hound disguise, Melon asked;
“Is this where you jump out to save us, Rocky?” Staring forward into the oncoming armada, the gunnery officer asked;
“Noodles, can we improvise some weapons here?”
“What were you thinking,” asked the machinist. “Wet towels? Pictures of their ex-wives?”
And then, the approaching ships came to a halt, the lead cruiser actually drop-ping to the street. As all in the cab watched, a panel slid open in the side of the per-sonal dreadnought, and a figure in a business suit came out onto the extender reaching for the ground below, one surrounded by more than a score of heavily armed soldiers.
“Kids,” said Noodles. “You go on and make a run for it. We’ll hold them as long as we can.”
“Yeah,” added
Rocky sourly. “That should give you two, maybe three seconds.” “If they’re lucky,” said Noodles with a grin. Smiling back at his partner, Rocky nodded, and then the two reached for the door handles, ready to do their best, when Melon suddenly shouted;
“Daddy!”
It was some time later when everything had finally been straightened out. Sitting in the offices which had been given over to representative Brummellig’ic and his staff, Rocky and Noodles, finally back in regulation dress, sat quietly at attention as their captain, Caldo Bippdi, the mayor of the port town, and the representative tried to hash out all the particulars.
“So,” said the captain, hoping to nail the whole thing down, “if I have this correct, you, Mr. Brummellig’ic, slipped on-planet quietly for an inspection, looking for signs of Danierian mischief.” When the big alien nodded, the captain continued, saying;
“But, unknown to you, the Danierians, having discovered your plan, kidnapped your son’s class while on field trip. They were attempting to force you to turn a blind eye to their chicanery, when my boys here caused a diversion that allowed the kids to escape their captors.”
“A diversion?” Mayor Bippdi began turning an array of exotic colors, several which drew appreciative “ahs” and “ohs” from the former orphans. Before he could con-tinue, however, representative Brummellig’ic cut him off with a wave of his hand, saying; “Yes, Captain, you are correct on all counts. And, please, Mayor, all damages will be taken care of by my office.”
Noodles and Rocky smiled at each other upon hearing the representative’s pronouncement. Still sketchy on some of the facts, however, Rocky asked; “You’ll forgive me, gentlemen, and all, but I was wonderin’, Melon,” he called out to the ringleader sitting on his father’s desk, “why you give us that story about orphans and soup and all?”
“An idea of one of my officers,” answered Brummellig’ic. “The children have been taught this cover story. You see, most species in the galaxy would sell their own mothers for a box of mints. We’ve found that whenever someone is lost, if they claim to be running away from us, most anyone who finds them will turn them into whomever they say they’re running away from expecting a reward.”
“Yes, Mr. Vespucci, Mr. Kon; it seems you two have done great things for the human race, intergalactic relations-wise. Would you agree, representative?” “It’s rare we of the inner circle of the Pan-Galactic League of Suns get such an opportunity to measure a race’s true worth,” said Brummellig’ic to the captain. Turning to the gobs, he said, “You two might turn out to be fine examples of hu-manity, or tremendous exceptions, but you have given the league something to think about.”
There was more chatter back and forth after that, but it was the usual circular palaver of politicians. Finally, even that was cut short as the rest of the high-powered parents of the supposed orphans forced their way into the meeting to reclaim their youngsters, and to shower Rocky and Noodles with praise, well-wishes, and gifts. Seeing Uvi waiting in the outer office, Rocky left Noodles to soak up any remaining goodies, hurrying out to the diva.
“So,” he said, a trifle nervous, “they kept you here, too?”
“No, you silly,” she said, her voice still delightfully in full possession of all the gunnery officer’s faculties. “I was waiting for you.” Rocky blinked hard, barely able to believe his ears. Smiling as wide as humanly possible, he answered;
“Oh my, I know I’m just a mutt, and I don’t know how we could, er, I mean, what we’ll have to, ummmm . . . I’m just sayin’ I don’t care about nothin’, not so long as I can be with you.”
“Oh,” said Uvi in response, her voice a thing filled with apologetic surprise. “I’m sorry—I get so comfortable in this thing I forget I have it on.” And, so saying, office Beezle Uvi of Earth Intelligence slipped out of her bio-infil-tration suit, revealing all one hundred and fifteen pounds of green-eyed, red-headed, well-proportioned loveliness which was the real her. Quickly explaining that she had been placed onworld in preparation for representative Brummellig’ic’s inspection, she explained that she had spotted Melon in Rocky’s care, and had moved in to re-cover him.
“Everyone was on alert. Normally I would have just stunned you and Noodles, taken the children into protective custody, and you two would have been taken away, but . . . ”
“Yes,” grinned Rocky, “but what?”
“Well, you do have such nice eyes . . . ”
And then, the two came even closer together. Eyes closing, they were just about to kiss when suddenly, the door slammed open and a Embrian came in at a run, shouting;
“Mayor, mayor, big trouble! There are human sailors tearing up another tavern. Much fighting, much damage!”
“What ship are these from,” growled the mayor, to which his aide answered; “The Theodore.”
“Oh well,” sighed the captain. “There goes all that good will.”
Representative Brummellig’ic scowled, but then Melon laughed, and his father laughed back. The other parents went back to hugging their children; Noodles asked the mayor if he had ever thought of using robot police; Uvi and Rocky finally kissed.
And outside, the port sirens shrieked in glorious futility as the boys of the “Theodore” continued their mayhem.
Back to Contents
Jack Mc Devitt
CRYPTIC BLACK TO MOVE
Jack McDevitt has been on the final Nebula ballot 11 times, but has never won. Omega was named best novel and given the John W. Campbell Memorial Award in 2005. He has received the Phoenix and SESFA awards for lifetime achievement, and twice won the SESFA Award for best novel (Deepsix and Seeker). He has also won the Locus Award for best first novel (The Hercules Text, 1986) and the UPC International Prize for best novella, "Ships in the Night." McDevitt is a former naval officer, an English teacher, a customs officer, and has trained managers for the US Customs Service. He lives in Brunswick, GA, with his wife Maureen.
John C. Wright
PETER POWER ARMOR/FORGOTTEN CAUSES
John C. Wright is a retired attorney, newspaperman, and newspaper editor, who was only once on the lam and forced to hide from the police who did not admire his newspaper. His works include a number of short stories in such publications as Asi-mov’s, Absolute Magnatude, and several editions of The Year’s Best SF. In addition he has eight novels to his credit published with TOR Books, including his first, The Golden Age, and the forthcoming Titans of Chaos. He presently works (success-fully) as a writer in Virginia, where he lives in fairytale-like happiness with his wife, the authoress L. Jagi Lamplighter, and their three children: Orville, Wilbur, and Just Wright.
Mike McPhail
WAYWARD CHILD
Mike McPhail's lifelong dream was to join NASA and become a mission specialist. He attended the Academy of Aeronautics in New York, as well as enlisting in the Air National Guard. Among his works are a number of stories, including “Chimera”, in the anthology No Longer Dreams, based on the Alliance Archives™ series and its related Martial Role-Playing Game™; a manual-based, military sciencefiction that realistically portrays the consequences of warfare. To learn more about his work, visit http://www.mcp-concepts.com
James Daniel Ross
NOT ONE WORD
James Daniel Ross is a native of Cincinnati, Ohio who first discovered a love of writing during his education at The School for the Creative and Performing Arts. While he began in simple, web-based, vanity-press projects, his affinity for the written word soon landed him a job with Misguided Games. After taking a large part in writing and designing Children of the Sun, he continued as a freelancer on various contracts with BBRACK productions. After a slowdown in the gaming industry made jobs scarce, he began work on his first novel: The Radiation Angels: The Chimerium Gambit.
Danielle Ackley-McPhail
IN THE DYING LIGHT
Danielle Ackley-McPhail has worked both sides of the publishing industry for over a decade. Her works include the urban fantasy, Yesterday's Dreams and its upcoming
sequel, Tomorrow's Memories, an edited anthology, No Longer Dreams, and contri-butions to numerous collections, including Dark Furies, Hear Them Roar, Sails and Sorcery, and Bad-Ass Faeries. In the past, her work has been nominated for both the Compton Crook Award and the EPPIE Award, but sadly, she has not yet won. She is a member of both EPIC and Broad Universe. To learn more about her work, visit www.sidhenadaire.com.
James Chambers
KILLER EYE
James Chambers “writes stories that are paced fast enough to friction burn a reader's eyeballs,” says Horror Reader.com. His tales have been published in the anthologies Crypto-Critters, Dark Furies, The Dead Walk, No Longer Dreams, Sick: An Anthology of Illness, Weird Trails, and Warfear; the chapbook Mooncat Jack; and the magazines Bare Bone, Cthulhu Sex, and Allen K’s Inhuman. His tale "A Wandering Blackness" received an honorable mention in The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror, Sixteenth Annual Collection. His first short story collection, in collaboration with illustrator Jason Whitley, is The Midnight Hour: Saint Lawn Hill and Other Tales. For more information visit http://www.jameschambersonline.com
Jeffrey Lyman
COMPARTMENT ALPHA
Jeffrey Lyman is a mechanical engineer working in the New York area. In 2004 he attended the Odyssey Fantasy Writing Workshop for six weeks in New Hampshire. His first publication came in 2005, in the anthology No Longer Dreams, followed by a short story in the anthology Bad-Ass Faeries. Upcoming publications include a novella in the anthology Blood and Devotion and a short story in the anthology Sails and Sorcery, both by Fantasist Enterprises. Jeff was recently married and is now beginning the search for a house and a dog.
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