Custodians of the Cosmos

by Drayton Alan

  “Computer, list all specs of maintenance robot code name Reggie, priority one, volume ten please.” She put on her hearing protection.

  The computer began listing facts about the robot at a deafening volume. Frakes plugged his ears with his fingers.

  “I see you’re busy, maybe later then, let’s meet for a drink at the officer’s lounge at eight?” He had a big smile on his face, satisfied he’d gotten to her.

  She still ignored him.

  When he turned around, he was face to chest with one of the other maintenance workers, a large maroon-skinned Canabian woman, named Idonna. Idonna was the ship’s interior decorator. Every ship of the fleet was required to have a decorator to coordinate with the robotics department so that fashion upgrades were made to the ship’s interior as often as needed. Which was actually quite often since trend following had become a major focus of the Coalition’s latest improvement campaign.

  Idonna motioned for Frakes to raise his eyes to her face. Then she yelled, “I’d love to meet you at eight you sweet-mon, but could you make it nine. I’m not off my shift till den.” The woman’s speech was reminiscent of the people of Jamaica on Earth. It wasn’t a real Jamaican accent but an alien version influenced by a mix of their native tongue and the earth dialect.

  Idonna was a Canabian. Many Canabian’s had converted to the Rastafari religion after a group of humans introduced it to them a few decades earlier. The story is told of a ship containing a dozen or so Rasta missionaries crash landing on the world of Canaba a century ago. Fortunately, the missionaries survived, as did their sacramental seeds, and Mr. Marley’s recordings. Soon the impressionable Canabian people adopted a version of the Jamaican people's accent and the ritual habits of the Rasta religion.

  Frakes backed away from the advancing Idonna and said, “I wasn’t talking to you. If I wanted to date a maroon-skinned giant, I would dye a Warfian!”

  “MA3 maintenance robots were designed by Tark industries on the planet Earth in 2189.” The computer continued its deafening description.

  “Oh, dere you go gain,” Idonna said. “Why you come ’round here misleadin’ me wit’ your fancy words and handsome looks? Why don’t you admit you got it bad for me?”

  Belle giggled, but stopped herself. It was obvious that she could still hear.

  “Listen,” Frakes yelled. “I told you before. I have no interest in a romantic relationship with you. I came here to visit Belle, not you.”

  “They were designed to supplant the earlier Model MA2 maintenance robots, which had nineteen major design flaws,” the computer said.

  “Oh, you breaking m’heart,” Idonna said. She stepped closer. “I could make you very happy. I would be your wife and give you lots a’ children.”

  “Get away from me.” Frakes stepped backward again but ran out of room. He nearly tripped over a stack of buckets and ended up spilling soapy cleaning fluid on his shoes.

  The door to the shop opened and the custodial supervisor, Lieutenant Lou, entered. He looked at the situation and frowned.

  “Is there a problem, Commander Frakes?” the lieutenant asked.

  “Get your, this person… Get this woman, person thing, to leave me alone,” Frakes said. “Your department is the most undisciplined on the ship.” He turned to leave. “I’m going to report your whole department, Lou. If I could demote you any lower than you already are, I would. Your operations are a disgrace to the Cosmos’ crew. I’ve told the captain to replace you a dozen times. The last thing we need on this ship is an old failed has-been like you.”

  Lieutenant Lou ignored the tirade, he was used to it. The officers were arrogant and always considered Lou an underachiever because he never wanted to be anything more than a maintenance supervisor.

  “One of the MA2 maintenance robots design flaws was a poor locating system, that would replicate repair parts into the wrong location thus causing plasma conduits to rupture leaking radioactive plasma into the…” the computer voice boomed.

  “Can you please turn that blasted computer down?” Frakes yelled.

  Belle looked to Lieutenant Lou, who nodded. “Computer, stop description,” she mumbled.

  “Since you asked so nicely,” Lou said, and smiled at the man. He continued, “Listen Frakes, you and your Coalition pips outrank me, but this is my department and these people are mine. It is my duty to prevent the exploitation of my people by making sure you and the other officers don’t try to use them as your personal dating service. Just because you don’t want to abide by the rules for dating other officers, doesn’t mean you get to harass my female techs. Now, if you have a complaint about our work, you write me up in your little report logs and file them as you wish. But leave my techs alone. No means no!”

  The door opened again and Kale limped through. Frakes was turning to leave, and they collided. Frakes couldn’t keep his footing because of his wet shoes and fell to the floor.

  Kale reached his hand down to help him back up.

  “Get away from me, freak!” Frakes yelled at him.

  Shocked at the man’s reaction. Kale said, “I’m sorry, sir?”

  “This whole department is sorry!” Frakes struggled back to his feet and left the room. holding on to the walls as he walked.

  The door closed and Idonna laughed. “I guess I don’t get no date tonight.”

  “You are really pushing your luck, Idonna, what if that creep had said yes?” Belle asked.

  “I was hoping he would, I would have taught him a t’ing or two.”

  “What have I told you about egging him on, Idonna?” the lieutenant said.

  “Oh, he don’t mean nuttin to me, dat mon just got the hormones. I make him feel better ’bout himself. Dat’s all.”

  “Hormones or not, I don’t need another incident. Got it?” the lieutenant said.

  “Yes, sir,” Idonna said.

  “What'd I miss?” Kale asked.

  “The first officer was making another pass at me, don’t worry about it,” Belle said.

  Idonna looked at Kale and asked, “How you doing. young hero mon?”

  “I’m good now,” Kale said.

  “I read your report,” the lieutenant said. “Good thinking, using the robot’s transport chamber as a weapon. The squidmen should learn not to mess with new custodians, they can be a dangerous lot.” He smiled.

  “That was more of a happy accident,” Kale said, “Not much thinking was involved, but I lived. It’s more like the robot saved me, he was the hero.”

  “Yeah,” Belle said. “My vac-bots get regular hero training for just those situations. Little Eddie got pretty beat up, but nothing I can't fix, glad he helped save you.” She might have smiled for a moment but it was fleeting.

  Nigel entered the room, just as Idonna began to say, “Mon, I bet dat backside of yours is pretty–” she paused as Nigel walked past.

  Assuming she meant him, Nigel became indignant. “What is wrong with you? I’m not just some piece of meat, ya know? Leave my backside out of it!” He gave Idonna a disgusted look and proceeded to the locker room.

  “—sore from where dat plant got you.” Idonna’s voice trailed off.

  Everyone stood staring after Nigel, trying to figure out what had happened.

  They turned back to a puzzled Idonna; her mouth was hanging open, and everyone laughed.

  “Dat man is crazy for sure.” Idonna said. “I was trying to ask if you doin’ okay, Kale mon.”

  “Yeah, medics patched me up, it’ll be fine, it wasn’t too deep. The cuts were clean, those leaves are sharp.”

  “That’s the captain's pet project. He's trying to train those plants to guard Coalition base facilities,” Lieutenant Lou said. “He spends more time with those plants than he does running the ship.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t die a horrible death,” Chopi said.

  Kale hadn’t seen him walk up with the group, but nobody else seemed surprised. Perhaps they were used to him.

  “Thanks, Chopi,” Kale
said.

  Chopi returned to his work organizing the containers and supplies on a nearby shelf, and everyone else got back to their duties. Kale watched him, expecting him to disappear or something strange.

  Chapter 5

  It had been a few days since Kale’s run-in with the alien squidman. He was changed by the experience, for the better. It hadn’t traumatized him as he’d imagined it would. Instead it had energized him, boosted his self-confidence to the point that now he didn’t look down when any of the officers passed him in the hallway. He held his head high because he had faced the enemy and won. Albeit with help from a plant and a robot, but still he was alive and the squidman wasn’t. Results are what mattered. Some officers had even nodded in greeting to him, something they had never done before. Usually they saw a lime green jumpsuit and ignored its occupant.

  Not that all his troubles fitting in here were miraculously solved, but he was adjusting to his new life on a starship.

  He had about twenty minutes to kill before going to meet the captain. The captain wanted to interview him about the attack. The meeting was causing him no small worry, but he hoped it might be an opportunity to ask for an academy recommendation. The chance encounter with the alien might end up as his ticket in.

  He stopped by the food replicator station to get some food to calm his nerves. This was one of the ship’s challenges he couldn’t figure out. Despite numerous attempts, he couldn’t seem to get the food he wanted from the computer. Perhaps if he approached the thing as if he knew what he was doing, it would sense his confidence and maybe give him what he’d ordered.

  “Computer, I would like to order food.”

  “Please state I.D. and food preference. Don’t forget we are having our monthly healthy eater contest!” the computer said.

  “Kale Butterly, pancakes.”

  “Here is your buttery kale, Yeoman Pam Cates, congratulations on a healthy choice,” the computer said in a voice programmed to sound cheerful.

  Kale groaned. It was depressing. He had eaten kale almost every meal the last two weeks. He’d tried every possible combination of wording but he still couldn’t get pancakes or almost anything. Once or twice he had gotten what he ordered but only when he was trying to show the problem to one of the engineers. His further complaints about it to engineering were met with polite disinterest or outright contempt. They had written off his problem as operator error. When he checked the support ticket they had opened (only after he had insisted), the computer told him his problem was listed as ‘ID’ ‘ten-T’ error. Uncertain, he asked the computer what the code meant and much to his irritation, it had no data. So, he wrote it down to ask the engineers next time. That’s when he saw that he had written the word IDIOT he realized they would never help him. Obviously, this dilemma wasn’t a matter of anyone else’s priority.

  So, he decided instead to develop a taste for kale. In resignation, he munched his leafy greens quietly and stared at the poster on the wall in the break room. It was a reminder to give to the Red Shirt Widows and Orphans Fund, (RSWOF) This charity provided for the families of officers lost in the line of duty. But instead of being motivated to give, Kale found himself coveting the crust of bread the orphans had left on their plate. He got up to go meet with the captain, and left his plate on the table as an act of defiance.

  A moment after Kale left the room a young woman entered and approached the food machine.

  “Please state I.D. and food preference,” the computer requested.

  “Pamela Cates, kale please.”

  “Here are your pancakes, Yeoman Kale Butterly. You have ordered pancakes twenty-three times consecutively, make sure you eat a balanced meal. Maybe try a salad next time?” the computer said in its cheerful voice.

  Kale heard a woman shouting somewhere behind him, “I just want a blasted salad!”

  At least I’m not the only one who has problems with the food dispensers, he thought.

  He arrived at the captain’s office but got a message to meet him in the Xenobotany Lab where the attack had occurred instead. Not some place Kale was eager to visit again, but he couldn’t refuse.

  The captain was standing at a workbench fussing over a small potted plant when Kale entered the lab.

  “Great, you got my message. Have a seat over by my desk I’ll be right with you.” The captain was a good-looking human still in decent shape in his fifties, someone Kale’s mother would have described as distinguished.

  Kale took the path that kept him the greatest distance from the razor bush at the back of the room. His eyes tracked the plant as he stumbled his way over hoses and empty pots that littered his path. Its leaves made randomly-timed short quick slashes toward him. From this distance, the movement made almost no sound, their sharp edges slicing the air effortlessly. Arriving at the desk he found the chair fastened to the floor; he dare not turn his back on the plant, so he sat in it sideways and wrenched his neck. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the plant was aware of his presence, waiting for him to blunder close enough to it again. Perhaps once it’d tasted someone it never forgot.

  The captain finished his work, and sat at the desk across from Kale. Kale reluctantly turned to face him, but glanced over his shoulder occasionally to be certain the plant couldn’t walk.

  “Very good, Yeoman Butterly. Thank you for helping me with my research. Put your mind at ease, I reviewed your report, it all seemed in order. The purpose of this meeting is that I’m hoping to get a few additional details about your little run in for a paper I’m writing about our friend the razor bush or Aloifolia Decollavi, if you prefer.”

  “Aloifolia Decollavi, that sounds exotic,” Kale said. He smiled, trying to look as helpful as possible.

  “I actually came up with that name, do you like it?”

  “Yes, sir, I do,” Kale nodded.

  “It’s Latin and translates roughly to sharp-leaved beheaded.” The captain was excited to share his hobby.

  “That’s a fitting name, sir.”

  “Yes, it is. If I’m successful, that wonderful bush will someday guard all the military compounds in the Coalition,” the captain bragged.

  “Wonderful, sir.”

  “You’ve probably heard the story of how my friend and I discovered it single-handedly.” He laughed at his joke. Kale chuckled, oblivious to the reference.

  The captain explained. “Actually, we found it during a mission on Dendris Four. It was sitting there on the ground surrounded by the bones of a dozen or so small mammals, waving as we approached. My friend reached out his hand to it and Viola! I discovered a new plant species. The poor fellow had to get a new hand made for him, but I’d had my first great plant discovery. Its certification and my subsequent naming of it earned me a real measure of notoriety in the world of xenobotany. Let me tell you it was glorious; that heady feeling of being the center of attention as you give your dissertation in front of all the other xenobotanists.” The captain looked wistful for a moment, but then returned to the present and said, “In fact, I still have noted scientists seeking my advice about violent plant species, and I’m now recognized as an authority on the subject.”

  “How exciting, sir,” Kale said while nodding and trying to look duly impressed, but he was distracted knowing the plant was behind him, waiting.

  The captain seemed to be ready to launch into another story about his amazing adventures in the world of plants when he interrupted himself. “I’m sorry, I should just send you a copy of my book. That way you can read about my other discoveries yourself.” The captain waited for Kale to respond.

  “Oh, yes please, sir, that’d be great. Love to read all about it, sir.”

  “Superb, I’ll have one replicated for you. I know it’s old-fashioned to have a paper book these days, but I know you will want a personally signed copy as a memento.” The captain smiled again, amused by how amusing he could be.

  Kale pasted a large smile on his face and just kept it there.

  “Now, let’s get do
wn to business, about your report. I have a few questions for you, nothing difficult, let’s get started.” He looked to Kale to be certain he agreed.

  “Yes, sir. Please do.”

  “Okay, first question. As you were cowering in fear under the plant stand, I want you to tell me in your own words. What impressed you the most about the plant?”

  “Wow, good question, sir, I was pretty overwhelmed by it, as you can imagine. I guess it was the terror that its leaves were so close and the potential it had for lethal damage to my body, both combined?”

  “Okay, good, but what else?”

  “Oh, well I was pretty distracted by the squidman trying to kill me. To be honest, he was diverting my attention away from the plant. What else are you wondering in particular?”

  “Fair enough, let me help you then. Was it the plant’s overall health and symmetrical shape that impressed you?”

  Kale nodded, still being agreeable.

  “And,” the captain continued. “Were you also impressed by the healthy shade of green the leaves displayed. How did they look from that angle?”

  “Very green, sir.” Kale nodded again.

  “Or perhaps how well cared for the plant was?”

  Kale tried to come up with an answer he thought the captain would like. He said, “I was certainly impressed with its size and vigorously slashing leaves. Yes, those all impressed me a great deal. Especially since it was mere inches from my face.”

  “Wonderful. So you got a good close look at the plant, correct?”

  “Yes, a very close look, sir.”

  “Now if this bush was guarding a planetary compound you’d been sent to infiltrate, would you turn and flee in horror?”

  “I would now, sir.”

  “Computer, take this note,” the captain said. “Subject made a close inspection of the Aloifolia Decollavi and was impressed by its healthy symmetrical well-tended foliage. The subject is convinced it would pose an effective barrier for deterring attacking alien threats.”