The Simpleton: An Alien Encounter

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “I’m not ready to give up yet on getting you back to the way you were, Brian.”

  “You sure you want to do that? I know you hated me … and I know why.”

  Cuddy waved off the comment, and added, “Oh come on, none of that matters now. You’re part of the crew and we all need to stick together, right?”

  “Do I look as bad as I think I do?” Brian asked. He seemed to have grown even more in girth over the last few minutes. Cuddy wasn’t completely sure Brian was capable of studying his own body, due to his now fleshy, protruding neck.

  “Well … you still have great looking hair,” Cuddy said, smiling wryly.

  That made Brian laugh out loud. He laughed until tears formed at the corners of his eyes. Then he was crying—quietly sobbing.

  “Um … do you think you can walk?”

  “I don’t know. You and Bob … the orb … will need to help me, I think.”

  Cuddy stood in front of him, taking ahold of Brian’s two hands. “When I lift him, get in behind him … okay, Bob?”

  Cuddy inwardly heard its mental acknowledgement. “Here we go … one … two … three, stand up, Brian!”

  Brian rose halfway up and stalled. But once Bob got hovered in the right position and pushed, Brian rose all the way up, into a wavering, standing position. He put his hands out to steady himself. Only then did Cuddy realize that Brian’s bulbous belly flesh hung over, completely shrouding, his private parts.

  “Okay … let’s try to walk,” Cuddy said. “I’ve got a good grip on your arm, so take one step at a time.” Although clumsy and awkward, Brian was able to walk. At the end of the passageway, Cuddy steered him toward the stairway.

  “I don’t think …”

  Cuddy cut him off mid-sentence. Brian had to climb up to the top level—where the sleeping berths were, and the kitchen—where he would be most comfortable. “We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

  In response, Brian gave him a weary look, coming to a standstill at the bottom of the stairway.

  “You get in front of him, Bob, and I’ll push from behind.” Brian took his first step and then rested on the bottom tread. Cuddy heard his labored breathing.

  “Okay … next one, Brian.”

  Brian did as asked, but Cuddy, feeling increased bodily resistance, had to take on more of Brian’s weight. This isn’t going to work. Then a new inner nudge came to him:

  Use your mind.

  Cuddy, readying himself, did exactly that. He willed Brian’s body to move several inches up off the stairs. A heavy strain, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold on to him—even though it was only few inches. “Bob, pull him toward you … up the stairs.”

  Brian said, “Uh huh … this is kinda cool. I’m floating like a feather.”

  “In time, Brian, you’ll be able to do this all by yourself—it’s part of the package of becoming a Pashier. I can help you learn the kinetic basics tomorrow, if you like.”

  At the top of the stairs, Brian—again bearing his own weight—said, “Yes … that would make things a lot easier. Right now, I couldn’t take a crap by myself.”

  Between them, Cuddy and the orb managed to maneuver Brian’s bulk around the kitchen and into the top-level passageway, then into the portside berth compartment. It was semi-dark and the others were still sound asleep. Cuddy did his best not to make any noise, though Brian was both huffing and puffing pretty loudly as he was moved to his berth, underneath Jackie’s. Cuddy, judging the bunk to no longer be a good fit, far too restrictive, used mental persuasion to reach out to Brian.

  Why don’t you take my berth, Brian? It’s more accessible … a lot easier to get in and out of.

  Really? I liked being under Jackie …

  Cuddy, catching the slight smile on Brian’s bloated face, thought at least he still has a sense of humor.

  Bob and Cuddy together lowered Brian into the one singular berth by the bulkhead in an upright position, letting him then catch his breath. Next, Cuddy grabbed ahold of Brian’s ankles and swung them up some, forcing Brian to lie flat on his back. Kneeling down on the deck, he leaned in close to Brian.

  How’s that? You’ll be able to sleep okay like that?

  Sure … I think so. Hey, thank you for all you’ve done. I’m sorry. This is my fault. I knew at the time I was taking a big risk. The orb … Bob … warned me.

  Cuddy gave Brian a couple of pats on his chest. We’ll get it figured out, I promise.

  “Cuddy … is that you?”

  Cuddy stood and moved over to Jackie’s top berth. “Yeah … I’m only now going to bed. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Cuddy,” Jackie said sleepily and turned onto her side.

  Chapter 44

  Jackie woke, less than four hours later. The cabin was dark and she heard soft snores coming from either Tony or Kyle. She slowly sat up and stretched. She badly wanted a hot shower, but first she needed to pee. Throwing the covers aside she stood, somewhat surprised no one else was up yet. But that was probably a good thing, since she was only wearing panties and her oversized plaid shirt. She leaned over and searched the deck for her jeans, but found them instead tossed at the foot of her berth. Grabbing them up, she headed for the communal head then stopped mid-stride. Even in the dimly lit cabin, she could see something was terribly wrong. She leaned in closer and screamed.

  “What! What is it!?” Kyle yelled out.

  “What’s going on?” Tony yelled.

  “It’s Cuddy. He’s … he’s transformed into … I don’t know what he is,” Jackie said, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief.

  “No, I’m here, Jackie … that’s Brian,” Cuddy said, sounding groggy.

  She spun around, finding Cuddy lying in Brian’s berth, and then swung back to check who was sleeping in Cuddy’s berth. This time as she leaned in closer, she noticed Brian’s long black ponytail. “What the hell happened to him? I don’t even recognize him. He’s all … bloated, or something.”

  “Good morning, Jackie.”

  “Brian? Are you … okay? Um … does it hurt?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know. It feels weird, though. Like I’m living in someone else’s body.”

  “More like five people’s body,” Tony added, now standing next to Jackie.

  Angry, Jackie fumed, “Tell me what happened to you. How could something like that happen?”

  “It’s my fault. I messed with the wellness chamber,” Brian told her. “I wanted to improve on the effects that Cuddy acquired in there … so I foolishly double-upped on the sessions.”

  Jackie stood still, staring down at him and shaking her head. “I have to pee … um … just stay there.” She heard him mutter, “Yeah … I’ll do that.”

  * * *

  AI orb Bob was telepathically reaching out to him. Captain Perkins … you are needed on the bridge.

  Cuddy said, “I’m on my way.” Then, remembering, he spoke the words back telepathically.

  “Huh?” Tony queried.

  “Not you. I was talking to Bob … I’m needed on the bridge.”

  “Okay, but who’s Bob?” Tony asked, though Cuddy was already running down the corridor. In less than two minutes he reached the bridge. The orb hovered there, at the forward console, and for the first time Cuddy noticed that this orb, Bob, was shaped slightly different than the first one. Perhaps more streamlined in its design.

  “What’s going on, Bob? Why do you need me here?”

  Bob gestured with one of its articulating arms—something else the first orb never did—toward the Viewscape display.

  “What am I looking at here?”

  “Five Howsh, Marauder-Class, star fighters.”

  Cuddy sat down. “I thought there were ten of them? And that they were far off, not an imminent concern.”

  The orb hovered back to the board and made a few adjustments to what Cuddy recognized was the ship’s cloaking. “Apparently, the fleet has split. These warships are now on an intersecting course with the Ever
more.”

  Cuddy, afraid something like that would happen, asked, “How close?”

  “Close, Captain. Keep in mind the Evermore has been continuously outpacing FTL speeds by a factor of seven, ever since leaving Sol System. I suspect the Howsh vessels, albeit not nearly as fast as the Evermore, are now traveling at their maximum capabilities as well. Currently, keeping those same joint rates of speed, we will intersect in five days, seven hours, and forty-three minutes.”

  “There has to be something we can do … get away from them … somehow?” Cuddy asked.

  “The Evermore’s cloaking capability is far superior to that of the Howsh vessels. But enabling the ship with cloaking earlier would have slowed our progress by a factor of 4.3 percent. I thought it prudent to reinitialize the cloaking program now instead, noticing their relative proximity.”

  “Good! So we’ll just speed right past them. They won’t see us, right?”

  “No, Captain. No cloaking system is perfect. Although an accurate lock on us would be nearly impossible, vessels as advanced as these Marauders will be able to track the spatial aberrations in our wake. Only when stationary will we become completely hidden from their sensor scans.”

  “What about the five other Howsh ships? Let me guess, they’re still headed for Primara.”

  “Correct. They will reach that planet within eight days.”

  * * *

  Over the next hour, Cuddy tried to come up with some semblance of a battle strategy. The orb was helpful—answered all his questions, then provided just enough technical details to pretty much squash anything he came up with. Cuddy was becoming more and more cognizant of the fact he was not a tactician. He knew nothing of preparing for war; how to formulate a battle plan—and nothing in the old orb’s info-dump-download pertained to the subject. He was reminded, for the umpteenth time, that the Pashier were pacifists. Had they come this far on their journey, only to be crushed by five Howsh warships?

  Cuddy leaned back in his seat and exhaled a heavy breath—aware the orb was moving out through the exit hatch. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Momma, and his life before he became the being he now was. What am I?

  He opened his eyes, realizing the overhead lighting had significantly dimmed. And then he saw him … Tow was aglow, like he’d never seen him before. He moved onto the bridge, his footfalls imperceptible, then sat down in the seat next to Cuddy’s. His smiling face emanated forth both grace and humility.

  Cuddy stared back at him. “How is this even possible?”

  “You tell me, Cuddy. Tell me how you have come so very far?”

  Suddenly, Cuddy felt ashamed—to the point he had to look away. “I have done nothing. I am lost here, Tow, and soon this space voyage will come to its sad, inevitable end.”

  “Do you remember, Cuddy, the last time we spoke? On the sub-level deck where you guided me into the heritage pod? Do you remember what we spoke about …?”

  * * *

  The overriding feeling Cuddy was experiencing was immense pride. He felt so honored to be the one to guide his new friend Tow into this swirling mist of glittering lights—into his next stage of existence—or whatever this was all about. Walking side by side, he felt the light touch of Tow’s arm resting on his—light as a feather. He looked down, noting the smile on his friend’s face, his look of anticipation. Of what was—maybe amazing things—surely coming. Tow wondered if, when the time was right, he too would be allowed to participate in this beautiful, otherworldly, ritual. He hoped so.

  “Cuddy … listen to me carefully.”

  Tow slowed his pace—even as the swirling galaxy of lights glimmered brilliantly before him. More serious now, Tow looked up at him and said, “Cuddy, it will be easy to lose your way; easy to play by the rules of others—those driven by darker impulses. Those who only think short-term, willing to ignore what’s truly there … hidden deep within their hearts.”

  Cuddy was reminded of the horrific turn of events Tow and his people were forced to endure over the years. And yet here he was now, the last one. The last Pashier, speaking only of kindness, not spite or revenge.

  “But you didn’t survive … none of you survived, Tow. Was it worth it? To be walking into … um … what’s the word?”

  “Extinction? Is that what you think, Cuddy?” Tow looked up and gestured to the magnificence around them. “Extinction is not possible … in fact, it’s impossible. It is a term that corresponds only to forms of physicality, but does not exist on subliminal levels. Not really. Think about what truly endures forever. What can’t be eviscerated—either by time or by acts of evil, ever.”

  Cuddy thought about that. What could endure throughout time …?

  “When you figure that out, the problems, the distress … will disappear. Remember, hope is real when your intentions are in alignment with your true self. The answers will come to you, Cuddy. I promise you that.”

  Tow then picked up his pace and his smile returned. Anticipation of what was still to come emanated out from him with the brilliance of a hundred suns. “One more thing, Cuddy. You forget … I am not the last Pashier.”

  * * *

  “Captain Perkins … did you hear me?” Cuddy blinked away the magnificent vision and looked around the bridge. The overhead lights were bright again. The orb still hovered above the forward console, and then it came to him … what endures for all time? Unconsciously, he placed his palm on his chest—over his heart.

  Cuddy stood, then, studying the Viewscape display, said, “Bob … we’ve been going about this all wrong.”

  Chapter 45

  Over the next five days, Cuddy, with Bob’s invaluable assistance, immersed himself into the Howsh’s long, pernicious history. Whatever was available on that ancient alien empire, and stored within the orb’s memory banks, Cuddy needed to know about. All the while, the approaching fleet of five Howsh Marauders was a continual source of tension onboard the Evermore. Cuddy, Kyle, and Tony would periodically check their status on the Viewscape display.

  Little had been seen of Jackie and Brian. With the help of Kyle and Tony, they’d moved his stand-alone sleeping berth into one of the less-crowded upper deck compartments. Brian had become increasingly self-conscious about his appearance—his total lack of mobility. Basically, Jackie had become his full-time on-call nurse, and for that Cuddy gave her all due credit—never hearing her complain, not even once.

  Cuddy, currently seated in the rear of the bridge, where he’d set up a makeshift desk of sorts, had three separate query terminals positioned for easy access into the AI’s extensive memory banks. He found it easier to write things down using pencil and paper. Bob had spent a significant amount of time providing him with a close facsimile of paper, and then a pencil—now stacks of notes were strewn all around the top of the desk.

  Cuddy’s thoughts, as they inevitably did, turned to Jackie. He did his best to bury his feelings—envious of the increasing amount of time Jackie spent alone with Brian. So when he heard her voice behind him, he was pleasantly surprised.

  Jackie entered the bridge, looking rumpled and tired, then plunked down hard in the seat next to him, and stared over at the Viewscape display. “Bob, how much time do we have left … before the Howsh reach us?” she asked.

  “Less than one hour, Jackie.”

  Cuddy watched her expression. She looked irritated and began to chew on the inside of her cheek. Something he knew she did when she was overly frustrated.

  “You doing okay?” Cuddy asked.

  She didn’t look at him, at first. Didn’t say anything, either. Cuddy shifted in his seat, not really knowing what to say next. Did I do something wrong?

  Jackie glanced over to the AI orb and asked, “Bob … can you give us a little privacy? I need to speak with Cuddy alone.”

  “Of course. I will take care of some maintenance issues in Engineering.”

  “Oh, and close the bridge hatch as you go,” she added.

  Cuddy wasn’t aware the bridge e
ven had a closable hatch, but on hearing it slide closed, he realized it did.

  “What did I do? Or forget to do? Go ahead and yell at me, Jackie. I’ve been so immersed here on the bridge …”

  “Yell at you? What for?” she asked.

  “I don’t know … you don’t look … all that happy.”

  “So I don’t look happy, uh … I wonder why? I mean, according to AI Bob, we’ve probably got less than an hour to live. And let’s pile on a little more shit. I’ve been playing nursemaid to an ungrateful, misogynistic ass for five days, and the one person I need attention from … is too daft to notice.”

  It was as if Cuddy had been shocked with a cattle prod. This was uncharted territory for him. No amount of information downloaded from the orb could prepare him for this conversation. “Well, I thought you and Brian were … still close. I heard you kissing in the hold, and …” he let his words hang.

  Jackie closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, he kissed me, I didn’t kiss him back. I’d just told him that he and I were over. That I didn’t love him anymore … that maybe I never did.”

  Jackie leaned forward in her seat, her knees lightly touching his. Then, resting her hands on his upper thighs, Jackie stared into his eyes. “It took me a while to get over who you were before … and who you have become. You were a boy. Now you’re not. Now you’re a man, in every sense of the word. I see the way you look at me, Cuddy. I know you want me … in the ways a man wants a woman.”

  Cuddy began to squirm and looked off toward the Viewscape display as if distracted.

  The corners of her lips turned up. With surprising agility, she scooted off her chair and onto Cuddy’s lap. Then her voice, a mere whisper, murmured, “I know this is all new to you, Cuddy. Just relax … I won’t bite.”