2 - Refuel

Transcript

Otis was phenomenally surprised by how well sci-fi movies had prepared him for space. And not the good ones with the awards and the respect. The trashy, silly ones. Turns out, the galaxy was just as chaotic and badly written as the world he’d come from.

The major franchises were about eighty percent right. Teleporters existed and were a real time saver, though Otis worried about all the walking he would be missing out on. He hadn’t even finished that swim. Faster than light travel was absolutely terrifying but also very real. Even nanomachines, little robots that fixed things, were real.

That’s why he and Tara were off the North Star for a bit, it was being flooded with nanobots to fix every minor bit of wear and tear. No organics allowed. Alpha hadn’t been specific about what would happen if an organic was aboard while the nanobots were doing repairs, but he had made a face. Otis presumed nanobots probably thought of organic lifeforms as mess to be cleaned up. That didn’t sound pleasant.

So, here they were on the market world of Hermes. Armed with a pair of universal translators Alpha had given them with less explanation than Otis would like, they had found a sunlit square surrounded by market stalls. Tara was, at this moment, waving a t-shirt at him that she’d picked up. It was identical to the one he’d found on North Star, and she seemed to find the idea of mass production, that there would be two similar t-shirts in the universe at large, utterly amazing.

Otis was unmoved by such things. You don’t get to the level of assistant manager without understanding how shops work. It was pretty essential ground to cover. He was moved by the giddy look of excitement on Tara’s face though. It was nice to see her enjoying herself.

“I’m buying it for you.” She said.

“You’re buying me a duplicate of the T-Shirt I’m wearing?”

She giggled. This whole thing seemed wildly entertaining to her. He had no idea where she had found currency, but suspected Alpha had pointed her to a moneybox or something.

Otis held up the little communicator device Alpha had given them both. A space walkie talkie, basically. ‘Space’ was a useful adjective. Otis was aware he was maybe overusing it in his head, but was having a lot of fun doing so.

“I’m going to go look for some food supplies, fresh veg or something. I’ll be on comms if you need me.”

Tara made an uh-huh noise and went back to haggling with the T-Shirt salesman, who had definitely spotted Otis’s T-Shirt, and had definitely spotted the opportunity to charge Tara stupid money for the doppel-polo.

Otis wandered off. The market was dense with people, absolutely none of them human, or in most cases, even somewhat similar to a human. This is one area that sci-fi had gotten wrong. Absolutely nobody around him looked like a shakespearean actor taking on a guest role with a bumpy forehead. About seventy five percent of them didn’t even have foreheads.

He rounded a corner, now well and truly out of view of Tara. It was a bit quieter. He relaxed a little, the crowds had overwhelmed him a bit. The sensory overload reminded him of visiting a theme park with his dad. He’d had to sit it out for thirty minutes with a cookie the size of his head.

As he contemplated the chocolate chips, a masked figure with four arms darted out of the shadows and grabbed him with three of them. He had just enough time to wonder where the fourth was before he felt the end of what had to be a space gun (see, it was fun to use the adjective, even in tense situations) on the back of his head.

Three large figures closed in on Otis and the creature wrapped around him.

“Come one step closer, and this ugly tourist gets ventilated!”

[intro music]

Otis was fine with being called ugly, but the tourist bit stung a little.

“You think we care about that guy?” said the largest of the admittedly universally large figures pointing their own guns at the hostage taker.

“You don’t know who this is?” four arms retorted.

“No tricks, Belto!”

‘Belto’. Otis would always prefer to know the name of anyone pressing a gun against him.

“Alright, mate,” said Belto, “if you’re alright with me shooting the third Tsar of Ursa Fengris, or shooting him yourself with those clumsy trigger fingers of yours, then you go right ahead, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I tried to save you, man.”

The largest looked to the second largest, who shrugged. He turned back. “There’s no such planet.”

“There is.”

“There is not.”

“I’ve been there.”

“No you haven’t.”

This was one of those moments where Otis knew he had to be assertive. It was important to take responsibility for his own opportunities. He’d learned that in assistant management training from a nice woman called Brenda. Belto may have been holding a space gun to his head, but he still seemed like a safer bet than the large, slightly confused and increasingly angry men chasing him.

“Yes.. He.. Has!” Otis said, in as close to a booming voice as he could muster. “Throw down your arms, and, umm, the guns held in them.”

Belto looked at Otis and smirked. It was a smug smirk, at least, it looked smug. It was hard to tell with the shape of his mouth. He swung his gun away from Otis’s head, and pointed it at the large men.

“My lord, the Tsar, grows tired of your interruption.”

“You grabbed him, he’s just a guy on the street.”“Are you willing to take that chance?” Interjected Otis. “What’s your name, kid?”“I’m Grunk.”

“Alright Grunk? Are you willing to take the risk of firing your gun at me? What will you tell your loved ones? What will you say to them when they come to visit you in prison?”

It is worth noting at this point that Grunk was nine feet tall. Otis had noted it. He’d noted very little else. Slowly, he and Belto backed off. Grunk and his men stood, frozen. One of the henchmen pulled out his communicator and spoke into it in hushed tones. Otis was surprised that he and Belto were gaining such distance, Grunk clearly had his doubts about giving chase.

“We’ll get you Belto!” yelled Grunk.

“I don’t doubt it. But not today.”

The two got to the corner of the street and ran. Otis heard the crackle of the space walkie talkie behind them, the confirmation that he was not in fact royalty, and heard the three goons start to chase after them.

Belto wound through the backstreets, Otis not far behind. He was exceptionally glad he’d finally taken fitness more seriously this year. Months of pilates paid off as he jumped over crates and barrels. It all seemed much easier for Belto, swinging through the alleys with four arms and two pinwheeling legs.

They rounded corner after corner, and eventually, the footsteps behind faded. After a few more corners Belto grabbed him by his collar and pulled him into an empty shop front, a temporary moment of cover.

“I’m sorry about that, friend.” He said, a little out of breath.

“Holding a gun to my head?” Otis asked, a bit angrier than he’d realised he was up to that point.

Belto winced, and rubbed his temples with two hands.

“I’m sorry, yeah. That wasn’t meant to go like that. I made a few of the wrong people unhappy. When you make people like that unhappy, they send bricks like Grunk to find you. And he did. I panicked. I need to get off-world.”

“Where are you going?”

“Wherever, man, wherever I can get to.”

“Alright. Well. I have a ship. Maybe I can help. We’d need to check in with Tara, and I’m not promising anything. Doesn’t feel right leaving you here, even with the…” Otis mimed being taken hostage.

Belto’s eyes widened, a new smile, a sincere one, played across his face. “Thank you”.

“No promises, now, how do we get back to the main market square?”

“This way, I know a shortcut.”

Belto lead again, and they carefully worked their way through more alleys. Wherever Grunk’s men had ended up, they had moved on. Belto was visibly uncomfortable. Otis suspected he was further from his element than his bravado implied. He reminded Otis of a colleague back at Computer Planet, Kevin. Kevin spent most of his time boasting about his prowess on FIFA, but when Otis had asked for a game, he’d suddenly lost interest. Bravado covering for anxiety. Although admittedly with slightly lower stakes.

Despite that discomfort, Belto definitely seemed to know where he was going. Winding in and out of shops and the odd garden. And indeed they were extremely odd gardens. They’d covered more ground during that chase than Otis realised. Definitely proud of his Pilates.

Suddenly, Belto stopped, and put up one of his hands in a ‘pause’ gesture, like Otis had seen in movies. He gingerly stepped forward, lifted himself up with three arms to a window, and looked in. He then jumped back down, and opened a door.

“Welcome to Big Yordith’s” He said, with a flourish.

Otis knew a proper pub when he saw one. Even if the drinks were purple and the bar appeared to be floating entirely independently, this was a pub. Otis caught himself wondering which real ales they might have. Were there sports in space, and if so, did this pub have the rights to show them on the TV? And also did TV exist in space?

Belto pointed at the bar, then walked off towards a door which Otis assumed led to a bathroom. Otis sat on a stool at the bar. Behind it was, he presumed, Big Yordith. Yordith appeared to be five large tentacles who had temporarily decided to go into business together. The left most seemed to be in the midst of an altercation with a rowdy punter at some kind of games machine, the middle three were serving bar, and the rightmost was fiddling with the controls for the screen above the bar.

Ah. Space TV. That was confirmation.

Otis was in the process of trying to order a drink from one or more of Yordith’s tendrils when someone sat down next to him.

“Hey!” Said the mysterious stranger.

“Alright.” He said. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to form a second friendship with a plucky alien today.

“I’m At-Un!” Said the now slightly less mysterious stranger. She seemed friendly enough, and had already taken some currency out of the bag she was carrying, and dropped it on the bar. Yordith’s third appendage immediately swung towards them. Otis was comforted that some laws of the universe were, well, universal.

“What’ll you be having?” was Otis’s presumption as to the meaning of the squelching squeal that emanated from the tentacle.

“I’d like a flamejuice, and my friend here will have…” At-Un looked him up and down. He suddenly felt very stupid in his T-Shirt. “He’ll have a Jhiraxian Jora, but let’s skip the beetles.”

The tentacle nodded, or pointed, Otis was still acclimatizing, and then swung out of view behind the bar. When it returned, it was holding two drinks. At-Un’s was red, Otis’s was a colour that he had never encountered on Earth, but looked delicious. At-Un clinked her glass against his.

“My name is At-Un, and by birth-given assignment, I am here to enjoy the life given to me. To show honour to my gods, and any that you may have, if I die tomorrow, I will reach the afterlife having lived!”She downed the concoction handed to her. Otis sipped his.

“No way!” Yelled Belto, returning to the bar. “Are you seriously sat there chatting with At-Un?”

“He is!” Yelled At-Un back.

“I’ve not seen you in years!”

“Good to see you buddy!”

Belto embraced At-Un, which was no small thing with so many arms. Otis sat, confused, and took another sip.

“Do you want to join us? We’re going to meet his friend and then fly off this rock.”

“Sounds fun, let’s go.”

They both turned to face Otis. Otis was very much a man out of his depth, out of his solar system.

“I’m guessing you’ll fill me in on the way?” He asked.

“Absolutely!” Belto replied.

----

Tara was not where Otis had left her. She was also not responding to his calls. He’d not known her for very long, but that definitely didn’t seem like her. It seemed, in fact, like the furthest thing from the Tara rulebook that he could imagine. She was definitely the smarter, safer pair of hands. Which made her disappearance, that felt like the appropriate word, ‘disappearance’, all the more troubling.

At-Un did not look troubled. She mostly looked amused.

“Classic first timer mistake.”

“Yup,”  agreed Belto, “people break gravity for the first time, head towards the stars, and just keep wandering.”“I was missing for three months my first time off world.” At-Un sounded wistful. Remembering a childhood lost. Otis was always impressed by young people’s capacity to be nostalgic for being ever so slightly younger.

He was certain that Tara had not just ‘gone wandering’. He asked some of the shopkeepers, but in the bustle it became clear that nobody was going to remember one specific tourist. He called the ship, and Alpha informed him that she hadn’t checked in there either.

“The refuel and repairs are complete, however, so any time you’re ready to return, I’ll put the kettle on.”Otis was profoundly relieved to know there was a space kettle.

It was at that point that he saw the shoe at the side of the road. It was black, with a logo on the side in hot pink. It was noteworthy because Otis had been seeing commercials with that logo in since he was a kid. He’d hounded his parents to get him a pair, and they hadn’t, which he still held against them. That was the most famous shoe brand on Earth, there were only two people from Earth present on this planet, and Otis was not a fan of hot pink. Elementary.

“Cinderella” he muttered. Nobody got the reference, unsurprisingly. “That’s her shoe.” He said, to clear it up for his new companions.

“Looks like there was a struggle.” Belto said. He picked up the shoe, looked at it. “If she kicked it off here, and we know she started back there, I’m guessing they took her that way.”

He gestured down the street, it was a bit dingy, a bit quiet.

“The only thing down there is the Arena.” At-Un said.

Otis gulped. He had seen Spartacus twenty seven times. He also knew from sci fi TV that roughly one in ten alien worlds was ‘basically Rome’. He was absolutely sure that Tara could hold her own in a fight, but that was against humans, not whatever creatures fought in these alien arenas.

“The Arena? Gladiators? Blood sports?”

Belto winced,

“Worse, pop music.”

At-Un smirked and put a hand on Otis’s shoulder. “It’s the middle of the day, it’ll be quiet, that’s probably why someone took her there. Likely they’re looking for a ransom. Rich, odd looking tourists equal an easy payday. Probably the gang. You still working for them Belto?”

“No. I resigned. Otis here saw what happens to those who step away. Turns out they don’t love it when one of their thieves starts thieving from them.”

At-Un turned away from Otis, took the shoe from Belto, and pointed with it down the street, presumably at the Arena.

“Let’s go get your friend, Otis. This planet got dull anyway.”

Otis followed At-Un down the street. He noticed that the buildings were getting closer, the light was struggling to get in from both of the suns in the sky. Belto had taken to the balconies and walls above, swinging his way towards the Arena. It was presumably a lot of fun having four arms.

“So,” Otis began, making conversation, “Belto is a thief looking for an escape from the gang, and you’re… sorry.. What do you do, At-Un?”

“Anything I like.”

Not a super helpful response, Otis thought. He considered how to rephrase the question. He was still considering when At-Un saved him the trouble.

“My people have a different philosophy to most. We live as if without consequence. For us, there is purity in a life well lived.”

“Doesn’t that cause harm to others?”At-Un smiled. “Only those who get in the way of our spiritual journeys.”

Above, Belto laughed. “You’re not gonna tell him, are you.”

“It’s more fun to have him judge me for a bit. At least until we get to know each other.” At-Un replied. To Otis, she sounded a lot like any student on a gap year. Which was fine. He was the live and let live type. ‘Everyone needs pencils’, as he’d opined on a particularly dull shift to some of his Saturday staff. They’d been exactly as impressed as any teenagers ever were by the wisdom of a saturday manager.

----

The Arena was huge, but it didn’t take long to find Tara. She was sat in a chair right by the entrance, a burly armoured guard looming over her. The armour was his own, too. Otis thought he looked like a particularly mean spirited terrapin. They ducked behind a vehicle. For brevity, let’s call it a car.

This was no lone kidnapper, he was joined by a group, a group which included Grunk and the gang from earlier. Belto said a short word, which from context, Otis assumed was not polite.

“You said it,” At-Un replied.

“Who are they?” Otis asked.

Belto explained. There were a lot of details, a tapestry of political maneuvering and personal betrayal. A lot of people with very long and elaborate names, and conversely also a lot of people with names like Gore the Tickler. Gangsters, Otis thought. Thugs. Organized crime.

“And you used to work for them?”

“I did. Not a lot of jobs on this world for someone like me. I’m pretty good on my feet, and quick fingered. They didn’t love it when I moved on though.”“You mean, stole from them.” At-Un clarified.

“That’s how they saw it, yeah.”

Otis looked at the gang. He looked at the space guns in their hands and the two allies he’d found, and he realised how out of their depth he and Tara were. Space was massive and terrifying and maybe even a bit hopeless. They’d been stupid not to go home immediately. If only-

“Snap out of it, Otis!” Smirked Belto. “Your face goes kinda weird when you’re mulling over existential crisis type stuff, you know that?”

Otis did know that. His ex had always giggled when he made that face, which of course only ever made it worse.

At that moment, At-Un stood up and strode out from behind the car.

“Hello!” She yelled at Grunk and the Terrapin.

Belto smiled and shook his head. He made a gesture to Otis to stay put, and then carefully made his way out and around the side of the arena. The gang didn’t notice him, which Otis suddenly realised was At-Un’s goal.

“I’m At-Un, what are your names?”

Grunk sneered. Today was seemingly not turning out as he would have liked. “Move along, idiot!”

“That’s a bit rude. I was wondering if you had plans for this evening.” At-Un clearly had a plan, and was sticking to it.

“We’re fine, thanks.”

Tara looked up. Otis could see her trying to figure out At-Un, work out what was about to happen.“Only, I have a band,” At-Un continued, “and we’re playing later tonight. We started as kinda a covers thing but we’ve since moved into more of an acoustic vibe. It’s all really chilled out, very relaxed, could do wonders for that scowl of yours.”

Grunk was growing impatient. “Move along.”

Otis spotted Belto, now hanging from the roof of the arena, next to some kind of junction box. He’d pulled out a couple tools, and was jimmying it open.

“It’s free!” At-Un continued, slightly raising her voice over the sound of four tools simultaneously working on the junction box only a few feet above Grunk’s head. “Well, it’s free to get in, you’ve got to pay for drinks but they’re reasonably priced and our set is two hours long so you’re getting the value right there.”

A fizzing, popping explosion of blue light lept from the junction box. Almost instantly, Otis saw the lights on the gang’s guns switch off, with little plumes of smoke emerging from every gap. He had seen enough movies to spot what had happened, an electromagnetic pulse. EMP! Belto had knocked out all the weapons.

Tara spotted it too, and Otis watched as she grabbed the gun out of the Terrapin looking guy’s hands, swinging it at him. He immediately snapped back into his shell, falling to the ground, inert. Tara froze for a moment, presumably shocked by how successful her bid for freedom had been.

Otis knew this was his moment. He ran out from his hiding spot and waved his communicator. Tara immediately sprinted towards him, a task made harder by her missing trainer, Belto close behind.

Grunk yelled, “Belto! This isn’t over!”

“You keep yelling that!” Belto yelled back.

Otis spoke hurriedly into the communicator.

“Alpha, me and Tara are coming back now, but we’re bringing two others with us, so that’s four to, erm, to teleport, aboard, now, please, Alpha?”

“Of course.” replied Alpha’s voice, tinny through the device.

The four huddled, and then they sparkled, and then they were gone.

----

The crew quarters of the North Star were not spacious. In the center was a table surrounded by stools, bunks on either side provided room for four people to sleep. Otis was unsure if that would be referred to as two bunk beds, or four bunks. Were bunk beds like trousers, in that they only came in pairs? He decided that, given the enormity of what had just happened, and what was presumably about to happen, he could move on.

The group sat at the table, Alpha did not sit, due to a general lack of sitting animations in his database. At-Un was teaching them a card game. Otis had already spotted Belto pocketing a couple of cards as the game started. Tara was looking a little more relaxed, wearing her returned shoe, and beginning to get on with the two new crew members.

“Do humans have anything like this?” At-Un asked.

Otis told her they didn’t. It was similar to Happy Families, or Go Fish, but the cards were different, weird looking.

“The thing you learn about space, mate,” said Belto, “is that everything’s weird. Normal is just where you started from. There’s a universe out there that looks like nothing you ever saw.”

At-Un giggled to herself. From what she’d told him so far, Otis assumed she’d seen and enjoyed more weirdness than most. Tara was smiling too, and not just a friendly smile, or a smile over a returned shoe, but a smile of… comfort. She seemed comfortable in a way that he’d not seen her before.

“How you doing mate?” He asked.

“I’m good. I’m happy to be somewhere where everyone’s weird, I suppose.”

They played the game. Otis lost, as he usually did. Belto won, and got told off by At-Un for cheating and being a bad guest. Tara had apparently bought some kind of space soda (the adjective thing was still fun) so they drank that.

Later, Belto asked a question.

“Mind if we stay with you folks for a while? I’m on the run, and she’s looking for another adventure? We can try to make ourselves useful.”

“I can fly the ship!” At-Un piped in.

“Don’t let her do that.” Belto instructed, with implied experience. “But it would be good to stay a while. Hearing you talk about it, I’m kinda wondering why that moon sent you this spaceship myself.”

Otis looked to Tara and Alpha, they both smiled and nodded.

“Welcome aboard. Welcome, to the crew, let’s go do some space adventures.”