Slug Opera

Episode Eighteen: Side Effects

2012-01-10T22:33:00.000-08:00

Zora almost knocked on Ignatius’ door at least three times on the way to Mercur Omega. She dreamed about it more than once, slipping down the corridor and leaning seductively against the doorframe, tapping lightly and hearing him shuffle awake. He’d come to let her in, bleary-eyed and with his hair mussed from tossing and turning all night without her. He’d smile, and she’d say something cute. Exactly what varied from dream to dream, but every time without fail, Ignatius would motion for her to enter, and every time, her gigantic, pregnant belly would get lodged in his doorway.

Zora sat on the edge of her cot and glared at the exit. She didn’t want an Earth Burger anymore, that was certain, but this new manifestation in pregnancy side-effects made her long for the days of obsessive food cravings. She needed a man, as soon as possible, and while she preferred the self-proclaimed clone Emperor, her body insisted that just about anything with the proper equipment would be an acceptable substitute.

She was hornier than a Lunar Cow during the rainy season.

Even the ex android was starting to look good, though every time she caught herself thinking that, she flashed back to her nausea phase. She shivered and scanned the room for something to crawl under, but her cabin offered no relief.

They’d crammed two of the portable incubators into the cabin. Their blinking lights made pretty patterns on the ceiling, but the huge contraptions left her enough space to sidle from the bed to the door and back and that was about it. The sleek, silver containers gleamed around the glass front where each shelf bore a tray of sticky, round white eggs. The shimmer and curve of metal reminded her of when they first met Rook.

“Shit.” She stood up and turned sideways, making sure to keep her back to the metal boxes. The baby kicked, disturbed by the sudden change in elevation or possibly just feeling ornery. Its little tantrums had shifted from fluttery butterflies to outright jabs in the gut or bladder, and Zora groaned into the impact and shifted down the length of the cot. “You’re gonna pack one hell of a punch, kiddo.”

Her arm brushed the belly that most of her clothes had given up trying to hide. Her wardrobe had been reduced to the Bingies nightgown and two smocks borrowed from Murray. If they didn’t get to Mercur Omega soon, she was going to surrender to the pirates and pray for a quick end. Whatever they could do to her couldn’t compare to slow death by fashion disaster.

She closed her eyes through a direct hit to the bladder, and scuttled to the door panel, slapping blindly at it until she heard the panel hiss aside. Escape. She needed a little space, a quick jaunt around the corridors and maybe a cold shower.

“Are you well, Zora?” Her brother-in-law stood in the center of the hallway. He no longer had silver muscles, no longer gleamed exactly, but she’d never been the one with the android fetish either. “Shall I call Murray?”

“No!” She stumbled a step back, and he reached out to steady her. His new body had muscles that stretched the fabric of his shirt, and the shoulders were just as broad as ever. “No. I’m fine.”

“You seem disoriented. Is the baby—”

“Fine. All fine.”

“You’re flushed, and your body temperature is slightly elevated.”

Shit. His stupid Damascan super-senses exposed her distress as if she were naked. And if they both were naked… “I gotta go.”

She heard him start a protest, but her feet already pivoted toward freedom. She ran three paces to the corner and ducked around it while Rook still stammered out his concern for her welfare. He’d probably tattle to Mur. Fine. At least he’d do it out of arm’s reach.

Her slippers snagged on the grating, and she stumbled down the next hall with one hand against the wall to steady her trajectory. She’d never found the stupid android attractive, for Pete’s sake, and she didn’t like his new body any better. It was the damned hormones on overload keeping her all fired up with no place to go. Still, if her sister could read her mind right now, she’d probably toss her out the nearest airlock.

The ship was too small, her mid-section was too big, and they had pirates on their tail and way too many babies to protect. She stumbled, pulled herself back to level and considered running some more, but where the hell would she go? She didn’t really want Rook, nor he her. She didn’t want broad shouldered, tight muscled walls of gleaming anything. She wanted an Emperor.

A tiny foot stabbed her bladder. She moaned and leaned forward. What if the baby wasn’t his? What if he figured her situation out before she could be certain? What if she peed her pants in the hallway?

“Come on kid, give me a break.”

Lusting after her sister’s husband was bad enough without adding incontinence.

Zora shook it off. She stood up and tossed her hair. She could handle this situation. She’d been through worse and came out shining like a sun. She was Bloody Red damn it.

A door slid open in the passage ahead. The galley yawned for a second, and Ignatius Superius I stepped into the hallway. He tilted his head to one side, and a smile curled the corner of his mouth. Zora breathed in.

“Zora.” He took a step closer. The smile deepened and the little lines at the corner of his eyes appeared. “I was hoping to speak with you before we reach Mercur.” He came nearer, and Zora felt her throat dry up. She saw the tiny twitch of his jaw tensing. She heard him inhale. Exhale. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. The baby poked her in the gut. The engine hummed beneath her feet, and the clone Emperor took another step in her direction. It wasn’t like she could help herself. She could blame just about anything on the hormones. Didn’t pregnant women get away with stuff like that all the time?

“Zora?” Ignatius stopped and his eyes narrowed just a tiny bit. He had a sparkle about him, a depth that had nothing at all to do with muscles.

She smiled, gave a wobbly sort of nod, and pounced on him.

Episode Seventeen: The Predicament

2011-12-19T15:37:00.000-08:00

Ignatius had several lawyers on retainer. Unfortunately, they all agreed with his bastard cousin. Teepo belonged to Zander. At least half the eggs belonged to Zander.

“Damn them all.” Iggy drummed fingers against the console and glowered at the view screen. Currently, it displayed a peaceful star field. No pirates in sight—for the moment. “He can’t get near the adults. I’ve given orders to shoot him down if he tries, but…”

“But he knows enough about your operation to take it down with him.” Zora sat in the co-pilot’s seat and watched his face. “Doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

“I could try to move my people.” His expression, the lines around his eyes told a different story. Relocating an entire planet of illegal clones without getting caught might be more than their Emperor could manage. Finding them a new world to hide on, she imagined, would be close to impossible.

“No. We need to keep the clones safe. Risking them can’t be an option.”

“But giving the babies to Zander--.”

“Also not an option.” She’d seen the asshole’s zoo, and she wasn’t about to trust him with anything living, in particular not her slug babies. “Any chance you can talk him out of it?”

“Not when there’s profit to be had, and we’re carrying a fortune’s worth. I can’t see Zander letting that go.”
“He’s a piece of work, this cousin of yours.”

“It comes from his father’s side.” He curled his mouth into a subtle grin, and his eyes sparked.

Zora nodded and sank her fingernails into the arms of her chair. She imagined clawing off his shirt, sitting on his lap and…

Heavy steps rattled the mesh floor. Rook ducked back through the bridge entrance with Murray a half step behind him. Neither of them looked like a person who’d just come up with a brilliant idea to get them out of this mess.

“Cyrus 2 is out.” Murray shook her head. “Zander’s filed a complaint with the Gen-fed, and until it’s resolved, they won’t even give us a landing permit.”

“What was the next stop?” Ignatius spun his chair to face them, and all three discussed the itinerary. How many Gen-fed planets would allow them to offload cargo with a complaint attached to it? Few would even let them dock. Zander’s thorn twisted in their side, and each second they spend debating it put them in further danger of being boarded. That was his next move. She knew it, and she guessed Iggy knew it too, but with Murray frowning at her between sentences, Zora didn’t feel like being the one to point it out.

“So long as we have a fortune in slugs in our cargo bay,” Iggy went there before she had to. “Zander isn’t going to let us out of this. He’ll shoot to disable next time, and then we might as well just hand him the keys.”

“Does he have any way of knowing how many there are?” Murray bit her lip and looked ready to burst into tears. “Maybe we can hide some of them.”

“The incubators are too bulky to move much. We might get one or two into our cabins, but we’d have to pray they didn’t search the ship.” Iggy nodded. “Still, it’s a step in the right direction. Then, we can try to deliver as many as possible.”

“Mercur Omega,” Murray blurted and grinned like she’d just invented Syrillian Fizzers. “They won’t side with Gen-fed, not with the animal cruelty charges on Zander’s record. They agreed to take several thousand eggs. I might even be able to convince them to take more, maybe even offer sanctuary for the whole clutch until we sort things out.”

“You are brilliant.” Rook gleamed at his wife until Zora felt like barfing.

“Good. Great plan, Mur.” Zora flicked the toggles and brought up a sector map. It was a pretty good idea, but…

“It might work,” Iggy agreed, but the lines didn’t vanish from his expression. “Mercur is farther than I’d like, but if we hustle--”

“If we hustle.” Zora found her own worries mirrored on his face. Rook and Murray could relax in idealistic optimism all they wanted, the emperor and the harlot knew the score. That was a hell of a lot of space to cross with a pirate on their tail. “Maybe we can get there before Zander works out where we’re going.”

If the jackass worked that out, they might as well kiss the slug babies goodbye. Of course, if she knew pirates—and she did—at that point they’d be lucky if any of them survived long enough to care.

Next Episode

Episode Sixteen: The Threat

2011-12-06T23:03:00.000-08:00

“Zander.” Ignatius clarified for Zora’s benefit. It seemed everyone else in the cabin knew their sneaky friend. “I thought you killed the bastard?”

“I did as well.” Rook rubbed a hand through his metallic hair and shrugged in a very non-android manner. “Unfortunately, the opportunity did not present itself to verify that status.”

“Wait a minute.” Zora stood up and pointed at the guy filling up their view screen. Murray had the message on standby, but even frozen, this asshole looked like serious trouble to her. “You tried to kill a Pirate? When?”

“While you were liberating the gastropods.” Murray had lain her head on the console, and she didn’t bother lifting it to speak, just mumbled into the controls and toggles. “He shot me in the gut remember? Asshole.”

“Oh that guy.”

“Yes. That guy.”

Zora looked at him. He had the shirt, the tight pants, the hair. He had the body, and the smirk…and Iggy’s eyes. “Wasn’t he your--.”

“Cousin.” Ignatius nodded, but his mouth kept in a grim set, and his brows slid closer together. He even frowned the same, but with a great deal more class, she bet. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t kill us outright.” Zora held to the belief that this, Zander, hadn’t missed. He didn’t look like the sort of man that ever missed.

“Not likely,” Iggy continued. “He holds no love for me. If he missed on purpose, I suspect an ulterior motive.”

“Yeah.” At least one of them was considering her argument. “Agreed.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have just evaded the shot.”

“Give it up, Mur. You’re not that good.”

“Perhaps,” Rook’s voice raised in volume almost enough to cover Murray’s growl. “We should watch the whole message and then pose theories?”

“Agreed.” Ignatius stood up. He took three steps across the metal grates and placed himself at Zora’s shoulder. “Don’t you think?”

“You never told me he was a pirate.” She didn’t quite feel like being agreeable. None of them had rushed forward to listen to her, had they? Besides, with Ignatius hovering beside her, prolonging the moment didn’t seem like a bad thing. Not to mention the message couldn’t exactly bring good news.

“As far as I know he never was.”

“Well that was a pirate ship, using pirate tricks.”

“How would you know?” Murray mumbled, still face down, but with her head turned enough to aim a nasty grin at her sister.

“I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t. Are you going to play it or not?”

Nobody argued, but the little silence that settled in the cabin didn’t bode well for her cover either. She pressed her lips together and focused on the cousin-turned-pirate posing mid-sneer on the screen. Eventually, Murray triggered the vid, and Zander’s smile stretched even wider.

“Well, well,” he folded his hands together and tapped the fingers against his lips. “What a small galaxy it is, after all.” He sat in a curving chair. The black padding cupped his shoulders and wrapped up behind his head. He swiveled it back and forth while he spoke. “Imagine my surprise to find my illustrious and benevolent cousin has taken up with the very criminals I’ve been looking for. I must say, Ignatius, that I didn’t appreciate the reception I received when I attempted to visit.” His brow fell, and the twist of his thin lips turned nasty. “You’re not hiding something on that covert world of yours, are you? Perhaps something that belongs to me?”

“Crap.” Murray sat up. She looked to Ignatius. All the color gone from her face but for a grid of red blotches in the shape of toggles.

“I think I liked him better dead.” Zora remembered the filthy zoo, and she didn’t regret calling in Murray’s radical friends in the least, but she felt the first stirring of concern, just the same.

“Now,” Zander stopped twisting his chair and leaned forward. “I know you’ve taken my space slugs, and I know about that cargo you’re hauling. You’ve made some charitable agreements with property that, as I see it, is at least half mine. Even if I forgive the damages you’ve caused to my place of business, the losses I’ve incurred, and the misunderstanding as to the ownership of the female, the male is still mine--legally even.”

“You let this guy get you drunk, Mur?”

“Shut up.” Murray laid her head back down again, but this Zander asshole just kept going.

“The way I see it, you owe me half of your cargo plus one adult space slug. I hate to seem greedy, but if you wander the system willy-nilly, giving the things away, my chances of recouping my losses are highly unlikely.” His smile stretched, and he sat back again, crossing one leg over the other and shrugging his broad shoulders. “So my proposal is simple. You give me all the little ones you’ve got in that derelict pile of junk you’re cruising, and I’ll forgive the theft and damages. I imagine I can sell this batch for enough to get back what I’ve lost and still turn a tidy profit. After that, the little buggers won’t exactly be rare anymore will they? Then you can make more slug babies to distribute for free throughout the galaxy to your heart’s content.”

“He’s up to something,” Murray said. “Don’t trust him.”

“Thanks, Mur. That’s not obvious or anything.” Zora shook her head. She didn’t care who this guy was related to, he was a first class creep. “We’re not giving this jackass even one of the babies.”

Ignatius placed a hand on her shoulder and scooted closer. “Agreed.”

“And in the unlikely event that you actually agree to my terms, I will drop all charges that I’ve filed with the authorities and make every attempt to prevent the pirates I have recently employed from blowing you into small pieces the next time they encounter your ship. Considering your treatment of my establishment and property, I think that’s more than fair.”

“What about his treatment of my midsection,” Murray whined.

“Shhh.” Zora held up one hand. She knew what was coming, and she didn’t want to miss it.

“And trust me,” Zander revved up for his big finish. She could see it sparking in his eyes. “The next time I run into you, my offer will not be so sweet. You won’t be so lucky, and I won’t be firing any warning shots.”

“Ha!” She folded her arms and stuck out her hip. “I told you he missed on purpose.”

They all stared at her--even Ignatius. The asshole on screen faded to static, and Murray toggled the viewer off without taking her eyes from Zora.

“What?” This is how they always acted when she was right, damn it. She flipped her hair and ignored them. “Well.” She pouted. “I did.”

Next Episode

Episode Fifteen: Cyrus 2

2011-10-25T15:12:00.000-07:00

“Is someone shooting at us again?” Ignatius slid through the bridge doorway and straight into a console as the ship tilted and lurched under another laser blast.

“Affirmative.” Rook sat beside Murray, affecting a series of evasive maneuvers that seemed to be keeping them from taking any serious damage—at least so far.

Zora leaned back against the couch, strapped in and freaked out of her mind, while the former android and her moron sister tried to keep them all from being dead. They’d wiggled out of the inspection bullshit with the Captain’s help and more than a little Zora charm, but the Slug One hadn’t made it half-way to Cyrus 2 before the shooting started.

The couch bounced and the baby rolled and kicked her in the bladder—hard. Apparently Little Zor didn’t enjoy the threat of imminent death any more than mommy did.

“Yes!” She hollered and caught Iggy’s attention. His head swiveled to her, but his hands clawed for purchase on the dancing bulkhead. “Again!”

“They’re coming around,” Rook’s voice announced the play by play. “Looks like pirates.”

Again. The view screen tilted to the right, and a sleek hull crossed in from the left.

“Ignatius, guns.”

“On it.” The clone emperor pulled himself along the console toward weapons.

“They’re locking weapons,” Murray said.

“Hang on.” Super android flipped his toggles and pulled levers that may or may not save them from exploding into a zillion bits. The ship rolled, but the pirates clung to them, only shifting position a fraction. The nose swung toward them, as the enemy lined up for the kill.

“Son of a bitch.” Zora clutched her stomach and snarled at the screen. The rest of them could fidget and fuss, but she’d been a pirate too long to mistake that position. It was end of everything time. Not that things had been going so great anyway, but damned if she didn’t have a little one to think of--three thousand and one little ones, in fact. She might not be super mom material, but she had fancied at least meeting the little thing. “Damn it all.”

Ignatius reached the guns and fired. Two short darts of light flew into the pirates’ hull. They didn’t even scratch the paint.

A star blossomed near the frigate’s nose. It twinkled and grew as the charge crossed the distance between ships. Zora heard voices, but she didn’t catch the words. Rook droned and Murray screeched. Ignatius was lost somewhere between them. The laser shimmered and filled the viewer. She remembered sleeping with him; that was the problem. He might have been easier to get over, if she’d been intoxicated.

Not that it mattered now. They’d be disintegrated in a second. Just as soon as that light made contact. Zora blinked at the screen. She saw the frigate drop away. She saw stars.

“What the hell just happened?”

“They missed.”It could have been any of them that answered.

“Like hell it did.” Pirates didn’t miss. Not full on and not at that range.

“The shot went high.”

Zora shook her head. She wasn’t buying it.

“Ignatius,” Rook called. “Keep a lock on them in case they come back around.”

“On it.”

“Murray?”

“Scanning. They’ve fired engines full.”

“They’re leaving?” Zora watched the screen. It didn’t happen like that, and she should know.

“We got lucky,” Murray said.

“They’re probably after the eggs,” Iggy reasoned. “Blowing up the ship wouldn’t help.”

Zora frowned and listened. They’d been outmatched. The Slug One was a cargo liner with minimal weapons and a fortune in the hull. They should have been incapacitated, boarded and robbed blind. With pirates, there was no such thing as lucky.

“Oh thank god,” Murray said.

“Set us back on course for Cyrus 2,” Rook ordered. “Top speed.”

Pirates didn’t shoot and miss. Pirates didn’t do anything by accident. She unhooked her restraints and scooted down the couch. They’d been shot at twice two legs into a journey that was supposed to be under the radar. No way was that an accident, and a pirate that could ferret out who they were and what they were doing, was good. Too good to miss at close range.

This guy had been up to something, and the battle had gone exactly the way he’d intended it.
Zora would have bet anything on it.

She cozied up to the console and pulled up a readout. The computer flashed Rook’s orders, detailed the minimal damage they had taken, and ran a constant distance scan in case the fiends returned to finish the job. She tapped a key and scanned the memory banks. The flight plan filed at Cyrus 4 scrolled past, and she squinted at it. Nothing out of the ordinary aside from the hold and the Security Chief’s override. She moved forward, caught the initial scans that told Rook they had a tail. The pirate frigate had come out of nowhere, and it had known exactly where to catch them.

Even worse, to her thinking. If they’d flown into a trap, why hadn’t it snapped shut on them?

The battle orders flashed by in sequence, shields, roll, fire, roll, hail, fire. Zora frowned and tapped the screen. The play by play froze.

“Hey, Mur?”

“Kind of busy, Zor.”

“You hailed the frigate, right?”

“They didn’t respond.”

“Did you check all frequencies?”

“I was somewhat busy at the time, Zor. Remember?”

“Huh.” She tapped the console again and waited.

“What?” Murray snapped on cue.

“It’s just there seems to be a message here.”

There was. The pirate Captain had hidden it in a sub frequency that would have been easily lost in the cross fire of lasers and hailing. He hadn’t meant for them to find it right away, but he had meant for them to find it.

“Pulling it up now,” Murray said.

Zora leaned back and waited. She hadn’t expected a thank you, but Murray’s tone could have been more polite. The screen shifted and fuzzed into a sheen of gray static. Feedback howled through the bridge for a good five seconds before the image clarified. The face that replaced the gray looked familiar. She couldn’t quite place the guy, but he had a swagger about him even sitting still. The crooked grin said 100% cocky, and he might have been sexy as hell, if she hadn’t seen a thousand others who looked exactly like him.

So she was a bit stunned when her straight-laced sister groaned and sagged in her seat.

“Oh crap.” Murray said. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Next Episode

Episode Fourteen: The Inspection

2011-10-10T16:41:00.000-07:00

The Captain got them to the bay in seven minutes. Ignatius spent the time staring daggers at him. Thankfully, neither of them did much talking, and Zora was left to stare out the window without having to worry. At least, she didn’t have to worry about her pirate history. The slug eggs were another matter entirely.

Neela’s eggs were fragile. Mur had made that perfectly clear the first time she caught her playing with one. As the patrol car bounced through the port gates, she couldn’t help but remember her sister’s lecture. The eggs needed steady temperatures, a completely controlled environment, no jostling. Their vehicle tilted and she slid into the Captain’s shoulder. A hangar flashed across the view screen and the car skid to a stop, sideways, in front of their bay.

Zora slid out of the Captain’s grip, but not before she caught the look on Iggy’s face. He stepped out of the cab first, and he didn’t look back. Instead, he stalked to the nearest burly official and immediately began to shout. She caught site of Murray using her no nonsense, I’m completely in charge stance on any of the port staff she could get to look in her direction. It didn’t seem to be working in her favor this time.

“I’ll find the unit leader.” The Captain stalked away from her, causing only slightly more of a ripple in the activities than Mur had.

The uniformed port staff crawled all over the bay. They poked their heads out of the Slug One’s main hatch, probed her underbelly, opened compartments and stood in huddles all around her pointing and nodding together. It was a full scale invasion. Zora cringed as four of the goons disappeared up the cargo hatch. Too many to be here for the one bottle of contraband booze under her mattress, or the half vial of Tyrillian herb in the hidden compartment—these idiots meant business.

“I have all the permits!” Murray’s voice whined into higher octaves, the ones she only touched on at her most desperate.

Both the Captain and Iggy joined her, though from different directions, and a swarm of officers surrounded them. The shouting escalated. Zora slunk against the wall, where the shadow of the overhead ramps gave her a measure of cover. She circled away from the confrontation, kept her back against something solid, and worked her way around to the open cargo doors.

It was her damned ship.

She lined up with the entrance, waited until she had a clear pathway straight into the rear of the Slug One, and then straightened her spine and smoothed the rumples out of her nightgown. The one port officer she passed didn’t even flinch. Zora smiled at him and walked up the ramp of her ship as if she owned the place, which in fact, she did.

If she’d told Mur once, she’d told her a hundred times. It was all about attitude. Still, her sister’s voice screeched from the huddle, panicky, announcing her weakness. The Captain’s boomed alongside it, and when he stopped to take a breath, she might have heard Ignatius, calmer now, level and reasoning in his most charismatic tone. Bugger all of them.

The incubators pulsed softly around the converted space. Glowing blue cases filled with Neela’s offspring lined up in neat aisles. Zora’s silver-haired brother-in-law cursed loud enough to rattle the doors and darted from one control panel to the next. She stopped her march toward the ship’s weapon stores and stared at him.

“Rook?”

“The dials!” He waved a hand at her and didn’t even look up.

“Excuse me?” She considered the guns again. After the night she’d had, a little armed violence would probably be justified.

“They messed with the dials.” This time his head snapped around. His metallic eyes narrowed and his expression shifted back to dead-pan, back to the severe, I’m-still-an-android-on-the-inside look he saved for real emergencies. “The eggs.”

“Right.” The pulsing made sense now. Zora spun on her heel and crossed back to the doors. She looked out from the top of the ramp. The huddle of morons still held their verbal sparring match, and they’d attracted most of the errant officers as an audience. Perfect. She put her hands on her hips and inhaled one deep, terrified breath before letting every ounce of irritation loose on them. “SHUT UP!”

The sound pounded off the bay walls. It bounced upward and rattled the overheads, and it turned every pair of eyes present directly to her.

“Good.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder and smiled. “Anyone here actually fancy three thousand baby space slugs running loose in the city?” The silence continued for half a breath, long enough for her to tighten the reins a little. “Because one of these jackasses,” she swept a hand in an arc that might have indicated anyone. “Has turned off the stasis controls.”

Chaos erupted, but then, she’d expected that. This time it worked in their favor as booted feet, the right booted feet, scrambled back up the ramp. Murray led them, but Ignatius managed to push past the Captain and hit the units a step behind her. They both went to work on the dials automatically, and when the Captain and a ruffled-looking port official joined them, Rook started shouting orders. Good. That should take care of the babies.

She turned to the grunts still huddling in the cargo bay. A cluster of men in uniform, confused, without anyone to tell them what to do—this, she could handle. Stepping down the ramp, Zora let her hips swing a tad more. She let her smile widen and gave them all a look that said, this is just for you. The whole mob took a step forward.

“Well, boys.” Zora wrinkled her nose and sighed softly. “Let’s talk.”

Next Episode

Episode Thirteen: The Secret

2011-08-25T20:11:00.000-07:00

“So,” Zora shivered a bit in the late air and eyed Iggy sideways. “How did you find all that out?”

They walked, at his suggestion, down Cyrus 4’s wide avenue. The Police station faded to a dim glow behind them, the ghosts from her past appeased by a little party and a lot of hugs and well-wishing. Now, she and the Emperor strolled toward the port hangars, his suit coat slung across her shoulders and a wedge of awkward, unanswered questions between them.

“I have a knack for research,” he said. His eyes might have twinkled mischievously, but it easily could have been the street neons.

“I’d rather Murray didn’t know.”

“Why?”

“She’s very invested in her opinion of me.”

“Zora.” He stopped walking, and she took a few steps before she realized it and turned to face him. “You’ve probably done more good works on the sly than I have, and that’s saying something. Why not be proud of it?”

“It’s not me.” She shrugged. “I have a reputation to think about.” She tried her usual swagger, but it didn’t work on him. He shook his head, tapped one foot and waited. “I really do.”

“That’s not it,” he said. “That’s not why you hide it.”

“Well, why do you think?”

“You tell me.”

Damn. None of her tricks worked with this guy. He was quiet, calm, and completely in control. Zora couldn’t tell if that made her furious or terribly horny.

“Maybe I just don’t want people to think I do it to atone. You know?” She sighed and looked at her feet. “I mean, they would. They’d think I did it because I feel guilty or something.”

“Then they don’t know you very well, do they?” He stepped toward her, and she almost leaned away. The guy had her pegged from all directions—not something she was used to.

“I suppose not.”

“Because I don’t believe you feel guilty, Zora. I think, maybe, you don’t have any reason to.”

“Shit. Maybe you’re not so good at research. I’ve done things.”

“I know.”

“No you don’t.”

“Do to.”

They stared at each other for a second. Then Ignatius reached out, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a kiss. She should have been able to handle it. She was good at kisses—hell, she had a trophy somewhere that proved it. Still, Iggy had her outmatched. One touch of his lips and her knees liquefied. Her body tingled to life and tried its best to crawl straight through him.

She almost let it, but when her midsection got involved, her last little secret would be exposed. With a groan of disappointment, she pulled back and attempted to untangle her limbs from his. He held on, her Emperor, and he looked her directly in the eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m—it’s just. The street and public.”

“Are you serious?”

“No. I mean yes. But, it’s cold out and…”

“Zora.” He leaned forward, and she braced herself. Maybe it would be okay if he knew? They could work it out. The baby was probably his, wasn’t it? And he knew enough about her that they could try to find a middle ground. Maybe.

His belt beeped. He ignored it at first, but the chime continued, and eventually he dropped his grip on her arms and retrieved the com clipped at his waist. He answered it, “yeah?” and she thought she heard a whisper of irritation in that note.

Murray’s voice howled through the device, loud enough for anyone within a block to hear it. Full panic mode, Zora called it. “They port authority is searching the ship.”

“Ah Crap.” Zora said. She clamped a hand over her mouth too late.

“Is that Zor? Did you find her?” Murray managed to sound irritated as well, like it was all Zora’s fault, like she’d asked to be arrested and dragged away.

“I’m with her now.” Ignatius smiled and shook his head. “Are the eggs okay?”

“They’re messing with the incubators,” Murray said. “But Rook is back there.”

“Don’t let them in my room.” Zora shrugged at his raised eyebrow. “I mean, not that they’d want to search there, but just don’t let them.”

“We’re on our way.” Iggy clicked the come off, and looked a question at her. When she shrugged again, he let her off the hook. “Shall we run or snag a cab?”

“Cab.”

“Fine.”

“Captain said he’d work on the Port thing.” Zora watched Iggy stare up and down the street. A few vehicles still slid past them, but she imagined the majority the area’s taxis were focusing on the concert arena. “No taxis?”

“He probably hasn’t had time.” Iggy took her hand, triggering a spark or two just from the contact. “I hate to say it, but it looks like we’re on foot.”

The hangars weren’t too far away. Under normal circumstances, she’d have happily run with him. There was enough of a dare in his look, the hint of a devilish streak she wouldn’t have guessed at a few hours prior. She’d have loved to take his bait, but she couldn’t afford that luxury. She might be fit, but she was pretty sure a jog like that in her condition would have nasty repercussions.

She shook her head and watched Ignatius deflate. His eyes dropped and he nodded, but she could tell she’d disappointed him. He should have gotten used to that by now. She was Zora, the screw off, no matter what he thought of her secret good deeds. Better to squash the delusion now than let it fester.

“Hand me the com,” she said. He passed her the device. “I’ll get us a ride.”

“The Captain?”

She heard it in his voice, a touch of jealousy and something close to anger. Well, this was what she did in a crisis situation. Now was certainly not the time to try and change. “Yeah. The Captain.” She put the call through and waited for the cavalry to answer. Now wasn’t the time to change anything.

Next Episode

Episode Twelve: The Philanthropist

2011-08-01T18:17:00.000-07:00

Old Hands brought her another drink. They’d sent the twins to the storeroom for some synth booze, in light of her “condition,” and the reunion had turned into the weirdest baby shower in galactic history.

“Name her Little Hands.” The big, furry pirate grinned, exposing a row of jagged, purple teeth, and clapped her on the shoulder with one monumental paw. “You never know,” his growl lowered. “There was that one night after…”

“Hey,” Zora shouted over him. “Planetary Chief. What happened to Phylis?”

The Captain shrugged. “Last time we saw her was in the Andogian sector. She found a crew she liked the look of more than this lot.”

“Huh.” She would have liked to see Phylis. The droid had served as her sounding board on more than one occasion, and she figured, she needed a few minutes alone with her to wipe the memories. “So tell me what possessed you to go straight, Cap? A woman? Jail time? What?”

“None of the above.” He waved Hands aside and sat in the man’s chair. “It was money, of course. This cesspool is short on administrators, but long on cash. A surplus, they call it. Galactic funds. Turns out a pirate can make a killing in politics.”

“Go figure.”

“So, Zor.” He lowered his voice so that his next words didn’t reach the rest of the party. “Who is the lucky baby daddy?”

She heard the nerves in his tone. A bead of sweat graced his brow, right beside the tattoo. Zora glanced around the room slowly and found more than one set of eyes dropped nervously to the carpet. She stood up.

“Hey, everyone. Just in case you were wondering, nobody in the room could possibly be responsible for my little predicament.” She pointed at her tummy.

The Captain let out a hoot, and the chatter swelled back to party level. Shit, she hadn’t even seen any of them in at least three years. Apparently, the male knee-jerk guilt reaction had difficulty with basic math. They all relaxed, and she sat back down, shaking her head at the lot of them—at all men everywhere.

“Well,” Captain picked up where he’d left off. “When Stanton said he saw you, we figured you might have stopped by to join back up. Then your little announcement—well, if you were looking for us…”

“I wasn’t.”

“Right.”

“Did you have anything to do with our ship being detained?”

He frowned and shook his head. “Port authority has cargo jurisdiction, but I have a little leverage on them. What do you need?”

“A passed inspection and quick departure schedule.”

“Ah, you didn’t even miss us.”

“Sure I did.” She reached out and chucked him on the shoulder. “But I need off this hell hole you run as fast as possible.”

“Nice. Fine, fine. I’ll sort it out.”

“Thanks, Captain.”

“That’s Planetary Chief, these days.”

“Doesn’t roll of the tongue, does it?”

The door to the station lobby squeaked open and Stanton stuck his head inside. The eye she’d popped him in had swelled shut, and a purple ring spoke of bruising. Zora grinned at him, and he flinched.

“Hey guys,” He leaned into the room without fully opening the door. “There’s a suit out here accusing Zor of all kinds of nasty things.”

“I didn’t do it.” She stood up.

“What things?” The Captain followed her lead. He leaned in close and whispered. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“This guys says she…” Stanton rolled his eyes and then nodded. “Liberated a planet from servitile.” He stumbled over the words. “That she saved some mullocks from extinction, that she donated forty percent of all the loot we give her to a bunch of charities…”

“Hey!” Zora stepped away from the Captain. “Is there any more cake?”

“That she’s been giving away her money for years, and then he called her something nasty.”

“What did he call her?” The Captain kept his eyes on her. She could feel them, even though she didn’t look.

“Is that punch spiked?” Zora pushed in between the twins. She didn’t know who the hell had come looking for her, but the son-of-a-bitch knew way too much for his own good.

“A Philipist.”

“Stanton?”

“Philanstriper?”

“Philanthropist?” The Captain offered.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Zora poured a cup of punch and smiled at the floor.

“And who is this slanderer, Stanton?” The Captain asked.

“Say’s he’s her lawyer.”

She choked on the punch. Outside, she caught the sound of a familiar voice addressing Stanton’s backside. She’d never heard it quite so fervent, but she knew it just the same.

“I insist you allow me to see my client.” Ignatius. The Emperor had come to save her, but how the hell did he find out about her sordid good deeds?

“Ow.” Stanton shifted to the side, and Iggy pushed his way past the hulking Triploid.

“Charges are completely bogus and in the light of my client’s history…” He stopped just inside the room. “I insist you release her from this…from.” His eyes found her leaning against the buffet table under a spray of hover streamers and a sign that read: Welcome back Bloody Red. “From this party.”

She watched his shoulders sag. Damn. The Captain howled, and the whole room broke into a mad dash of cackling. Ignatius just stared at her. When Cap threw an arm over his shoulder, he didn’t flinch, but his eyes narrowed. He’d come to rescue her, and she’d managed to screw that up just like everything else.

“I love this guy!” The Captain spun Ignatius Superius I toward the cake and the rest of the crew. “Introductions, then. Come on Zor.”

She shook her head, but the twins pushed at her shoulders and she had to move. Introductions, sure. Hey guys, this is the Emperor who may be the father, and oh yeah, Iggy, this is the band of pirates I used to run with. I’ve only slept with 96.5 percent of them. Let’s party.

When she stayed quiet, the Planetary Chief took over. She watched him steer Iggy toward the twins and wished for all she was worth that they’d just throw her ass in jail. Rotting in a cell beat this shit by a far mile.

Next Episode

Episode Eleven: The Party

2011-07-21T14:55:00.000-07:00

“I’m really sorry about the cuffs.” The cop they left with her fidgeted and looked at his shoes. “Planetary chief insisted you were restrained, Ma’am.”

“It’s not your fault.” Zora gave up on distracting him with her cleavage when he called her Ma’am. Besides, he wouldn’t even look at her. They recruited cops straight out of primary school on Cyrus 4 apparently. She shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

The paddy wagon hovered along, bobbing around the occasional pedestrian and angling through the streets. Her arresting officer promised to finish reading her list of offenses after they reached the station, and she hadn’t seen a soul aside from the kid since they’d closed the back doors and activated what sounded like one heavy duty locking mechanism. Probably for the best. She didn’t feel particularly social.

“Were you really a pirate?” This impressed him. Go figure.

“Once upon a time.” Zora shrugged. They pretty much knew her whole rap already. What could it hurt? The glint in his eyes made her nervous though. “It’s not what you think. Not all guts and glory.”

“Oh.”

She watched him deflate and hid a grin behind her hair. One potential pirate off the lanes, then. He didn’t look like he had it in him anyway. The vehicle stopped, and they both lurched toward the front. Zora managed to leverage her heels against the floor grate and remain vertical, but the kid sprawled from his bench. He scrambled to his feet just as the locks at the rear hatch released.

The door pulled away, and a swatch of neon pink fell across the grates. Zora lifted her head and set her shoulders firmly in place. She might be in custody, but by god, she could look good at the same time. She stretched her lips wide and gave the kid a good bat or two of the lashes. He was off balance, focused on her for the moment. She could use that.

She exited the vehicle on his arm. He took her elbow and assisted her down. Both her hands might be tucked into electronic cuffs, but she held them gracefully in front of her and smiled for the crowd that the remainder of her arresting officers held at bay. Not so many as she warranted, mind you, but a fair few gathered to either side of the street. Zora smiled at them all, winked at a few, and waited to be led away to jail.

The kid released her. A lumpy building waited beyond the moving sidewalk, and the doors yawned open. The sign glowed above them, responsible for the pink light. Big, electric letters spelled out planetary security in various languages. The cops started toward the doors, surrounding her and taking her with them, and for a second, Zora felt a stutter of fear.

It didn’t make sense. She’d been arrested before, kidnapped, incarcerated and otherwise detained. It never really worried her. She always managed to wiggle her way free eventually. But this time, it wasn’t just her, was it? She found her feet dragging. Her pulse danced, and she scrambled for any angle to work. She needed to escape. Now.

The cops weren’t having it. They marched in a solid line around her, and not one of them looked likely to fall for a smile and a little cleavage. She was ushered through the doors into a narrow waiting area dominated by one long counter. No one manned it. Everyone, it seemed, had been deployed to bring in the dangerous pirate. She might have snorted, had she not been gripped in a growing sense of dread. Someone should have stood behind the counter. Surely, the station had staff that should wander through the room behind it. But every desk, every file cabinet stood unmanned. The phones didn’t even ring.

What the hell kind of police station was this? Zora had seen a fair few, and something fishy lurked inside this particular hell hole. Before she could risk bolting outright, the station doors slid closed. The leader of the officers motioned to a small door in the side wall.

“Bring her in here.” His badge looked real. She’d seen a few badges too--both phony and authentic. But something in the man’s voice seemed staged.

“Excuse me.” Her voice sounded too soft, meeker than she’d intended. “But I believe you’ve forgotten to read me my rights.”

He laughed. A few of the others chuckled and someone triggered the door. It was dark inside. Really dark, like nobody can hear you scream dark. Zora backed up a step and slammed into one of the guys behind her. She tried to breathe, but her lungs had shrunk all of a sudden. She shook her head and tried to calm down. Panic couldn’t be good for the baby, could it?

She was pretty sure that dark room wouldn’t be either. The wall of officer behind her stepped forward and she was forced a bit closer to the door.

“Wait. Just a second, you know. I think there’s been some kind of mistake.”

She’d never lost it before. Even in the tightest scrapes, she kept her cool, but another step toward the dark room had her shaking like a leaf. She heard something moving in there, maybe even more voices and her chest squeezed in terror.

“Hang on. You can’t do this. I--I’m innocent.” Okay, she couldn’t really pull that one off, but she had to do something. “I’ve been framed.”

She reached the threshold and planted her feet. Big hands settled on her shoulder and started to push.

“No.” She shook her head. “No NoNoNOOOOOOOOO!” It was probably the most times she’d used that word in her life. Still, they gave her a gentle shove and she stumbled forward into the dark. She closed her eyes and screamed, “I’m pregnant!”

Silence. Nothing awful happened. Nobody touched her. She felt the lights come on through eyelids pressed tight against imagined horrors. Someone nearby fidgeted.

Zora peeked. She stood in the center of a meeting room. All the tables had been shoved aside, and a porta-dance floor unfurled below her feet. The colored squares flashed, reflecting in the silver decorations, the streamers and sparklers hanging from the ceiling. She turned a slow circle and took in the shocked faces.

Harry was here. She hadn’t seen him since the glowbot incident. The Borelian twins sat on either side of the cake, looking pointedly at their feet. Old Hands leaned against the back of his chair, and behind him, three more of her past crew members gaped openly at her. The Captain stood off to the right beside a smoking punch bowl. He held a flare cap that sent a little shower of green sparks waterfalling to the floor. He blinked once, and then the old grin split his face and he threw his head back and laughed.

It broke the tension. They shared a collective exhale, and all the voices from her past shouted at once. “Surprise!”

“Son of a bitch.” Zora’s knees wobbled, but she held it together. She turned again, cataloging faces and planning at least one murder. The uniforms had vanished, and the exit was manned by one last ghost. Stanton. The triploid smiled and waved an arm around to indicate the room, the party he’d no doubt had a hand in organizing.

She smiled back. He’d done a fine job, all right. She shrugged, slid two steps closer, and punched the jackass right in his third eye.

Next Episode

Episode Ten: The Concert

2011-06-30T06:23:00.000-07:00

“Rocking dress!” Stanton met them at the stadium entrance. He wore a billowy purple shirt and black pants that might have been sprayed on.

“Thanks, man.” Zora tossed Murray an, I told you so, look but her sister had a big, used-to-be-silver arm wrapped around her shoulders and hadn’t glanced her way since they’d left the cab. “How’s the crowd?

“Rowdy as hell and ready to party.” The stadium on Cyrus 4 was small, but it frothed over with eager fans. At all six surface-level exits, the overflow elbowed and shuffled for position or a quicker route inside. Overhead, hover rafts ferried the more affluent attendees to seating in the reaches where the glowing walls curved in over the stage. “Were’s the professor?”

“Hmmm?” Zora ignored the rush of nerves and smiled.

“He’s meeting us inside.” Now Murray was paying attention. Great. “He wanted to talk to port authority about the delay.”

“Well, I wish you guys luck there.” Stanton shrugged. “Can’t see what the problem would be.” He looked to the nearest entrance and nodded. “We should get in line.”

“Sure.” Zora followed him, but she had to stifle a little warning twinge again. His eyes might always look a little shifty--hell, there were three of them--but she could have sworn Stanton had developed a nervous quality that she’d never seen him with before. She kept him in sight, kept herself between him and the others, and tried to sort out why her danger sense kept swinging into high gear around her old friend.

He looked sideways too much while they waited in line. He kept smiling too long, shrugged more than he should have. By the time they wandered through the doors, Zora made up her mind to ditch him fast. Not that she didn’t trust him. She just didn’t necessarily trust her ability to discriminate.

Yet she followed him, and by her lead, so did Rook and Murray. Zora eyed the other exits and memorized the floor layout, the stacked seat boxes, the hover disks and mini dance floors scattered between. She worked out at least three routes they could take in a pinch and she calculated how long it would take her to get to any of them.
“There’s a clear box this way,” Stanton called back over a shoulder, but he didn’t look to see if she followed. She could bolt at any point, and now was probably the time to do it.

“Hey, Mur.” She stopped walking and let her sister come up alongside. “I’m thinking we need to find our own spot.”

“Why?” Murray’s brow came down and she managed to twist her face into an expression that said something, whatever it was, was all Zora’s fault. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just have this feeling we need to ditch.”

“Rook?” Murray turned her back on her and faced her husband. “Do you sense anything?”

“Listen, it’s not something he can really pick up on.” Zora rolled her eyes and checked the nearest escape route. Stanton had noticed they lagged a bit. He’d turned around to face her. “We need to go, Mur.”

“I sense nothing out of the ordinary,” Rook said. “The security is appropriate for an event this size and--.”

“We can’t leave,” Murray said. “Ignatius isn’t here yet.”

“Hey, Zor.” Stanton took a step back in their direction. He cocked his head and held out one hand. “You coming?”

“Oh, there he is now.” Murray pointed to an entrance two down from theirs. She raised one arm into the air and waved it calling, “Ignatius!”

Zora swung her gaze right and saw Stanton closing the gap. She looked left and felt the room tilt under her feet--or maybe it was the whole planet. Iggy stood just inside the entrance. The crowd parted and flowed to either side like an invisible river. All she saw was prince charming.

He’d bought a new suit, that or he’d packed it. Either way, he wore sharp-tailored-man from head to toe. The deep blue fabric fell in distinguished lines along his frame and a silky shirt peeked at the neck. He’d brushed his hair back, letting the high hairline show, and his glasses glinted in the neon globes hovering around the stadium.

Zora’s knees wobbled. Her throat closed up around whatever she’d been about to protest, and a healthy dose of adrenaline swirled through her bloodstream. He looked perfect--respectable, elegant, perfect. She stepped backwards and eyed the nearest exit. Time to fly, time to not face this.

“Zora?” Stanton stood at her elbow.

Across the room, Ignatius Superius I Am So Sexy noticed Murray’s wave and headed in their direction.

“Yeah,” Zora said. She slid her arm through Stanton’s and prayed he’d take her as far away as possible. “Let’s go.”

He tugged her a few stumbling paces before she forced her eyes to release Iggy and look forward. The crowd swarmed around the boxes, but Stanton’s bulk plowed a decent path. She watched the triploid’s back and tried to catch her breath, to let her heartbeat settle back to normal.

She’d almost pulled it off. Her pulse had reached a reasonable state of calm before the nearest box opened and six armed security officers poured out. When they all pointed rifles in her direction, Zora figured she’d worked out what had made Stanton so nervous.

When they grabbed her by the arms, however, she changed her mind.

“Zora Livingston,” the leader announced. “You’re under arrest.”

“Wait.” She twisted against at least six hands. The crowd had closed up on them, blocked out any view of her sister, the former-droid or Emperor Sexy. “What for?”
“Fourteen counts of piracy, six of outright theft, embezzlement, fraud, breach of contract, public nudity...” The guy’s face didn’t even twitch. He eyed a sleek data pad and rattled off the contents. “Drunken misconduct, inappropriate use of--.”

“Stop.” She caught a glimpse of silver hair over the throng and cringed. “Later, okay. Read it later.”

The security officer raised an eyebrow.

“Just take me away,” Zora said. She heard Murray’s voice over the crowd’s rumble.
“Right.” The guy nodded. His men lifted her by the elbows and started walking, thankfully away from her companions. She willed them to hurry. The last thing she needed was witnesses. She peeked over her shoulder and didn’t’ see anyone important.
She did manage to make out Stanton. The three-eyed son of a bitch leaned against the box railing like nothing was amiss. No one bothered him, and no one but Zora caught the triple wink he flashed at her as the planet’s police force drug her outside.

She growled and considered struggling. There wasn’t much point, was there? She might disturb the baby anyway. The baby. She imagined it, fifteen years from now listening to Auntie Murray’s story about how Mommy got arrested on Cyrus 4. Her life was so screwed. She watched the lights roll across the vehicle they were about to stuff her into and sighed. At least she wouldn’t have to face the band. At this point, Haley’s Tail was the least of her problems.

Next Episode

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh

2011-06-24T09:49:00.000-07:00

Lovely slug fans!
the official release date for Space SLugs in print and on ebook, including
the bonus story, Escape From Damas Prime, will be July 1, 2011....

BUT.
I love you guys. So,
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/68871
if you go there and put in this code: HB63M

you can have the ebook for free. :)
AND
if you go here: https://www.createspace.com/3437760
you can buy the print book.
Sorry, I cant give it away, they wont let me. I tried to keep the margin as low as possible and still make it available on Amazon.

SO, two options, soon to be a Kindle version (any second now) too
and a BIG THANK YOU
to all the slug fans.

THe coupon code is only good till July 1,
So snag your copy now.

Frances Pauli
and the crew of the Slug One

Episode Nine: Bingies

2011-06-20T19:54:00.000-07:00

Sturdy really didn’t suit her. Zora sneered at the rack and pushed aside another foot’s worth of dowdy, comfortable smocks. She couldn’t wear this stuff. She didn’t think anyone could.

“Oh look,” Murray pushed against her right arm and pointed across the Bingies to a table that boasted several flashing red signs, “There’s a sale, Zor.”

“Lord help us.” She glanced to either side of the store. Any minute now, someone would see her shopping at Bingies, and the nearest star would go supernova.

But Murray looked serious. She tottered off toward the sale table like a Bomorian heading for an open bar. Zora checked the store again and then slunk in her sister’s wake. The table held piles of stiff, pasty-colored skirts and horrid fuzzy sweaters with a faint-hearted attempt at LED stitching. Murray pulled out a blue one of these and held it up between them.

“What?” Zora stared at the thing. She’d seen better weaves on office furniture. Hell, she’d seen better on the office staff. “Mur, they put stuff on sale for a reason.”

“It’s just overstock, Zora.”

“That's because nobody would buy it.”

“Well,” Murray sniffed and stuffed the sweater back into the pile. “You have to find something to wear soon, Zora. Even Ignatius is bound to notice your midsection eventually.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just tell him.”

Zora smoothed the front of her shirt over her belly and twisted to the side. She figured she was about four and a half months along, but it’s not like she was obvious yet. “I haven’t gained that much weight, Mur.”

“You look like you swallowed a cantaloupe.” When Zora gasped, she sighed and gave her a more thorough inspection. “Fine, a small cantaloupe, but still.”

“Nothing here has been in style for at least five years.” Zora stuck her lip out a little. The clothes really did look awful, and the concert would attract a hip crowd, even on Cyrus 4. “Can’t we just blame my middle on the burgers?”

“You want people to think you’re just getting fat?”

“Maybe.” She wished she was still puking. At least sick would give her an excuse to skip the damn thing. She looked around the store again. They had to have something, one garment that didn’t scream geek. Murray started chattering again and, Zora noted, continued to paw through the mark-downs.

“You know, Zora,” she said. She always called her Zora when she felt patronizing and Zora had a tendency to tune her out once the conversation shifted in that direction. “It might be a good time to consider toning things down a little.”

“Why?” She scanned the back of the store, where Bingies’ excuse for lingerie floated at various heights on round, plastic hover disks. A flash of color beside one of the tables looked slightly less than horrid. Zora squinted at it.

“Because you’re going to be a mom, soon,” Murray continued. “You can’t exactly continue to dress like you usually do.”

“What? Why not?”

Murray blinked at her.

“Seriously, Mur. You’re saying I have to what? Dress like, like--.”

“Don’t say it.”

“But, Mur.”

“I’m just saying you might consider muting some of the more outrageous aspects of your wardrobe.”

Zora tossed her hair back and laughed. When Murray didn’t join her, she frowned and started toward the back of the store. She wove through tables of drab, utilitarian clothing as if they might leap out and turn her into a frump at any second.

“Come on.” She sidestepped a rack of coats that looked suspiciously familiar. “The kids not going to care how I dress.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it will.”

“What?” She reached the rack she’d seen from sale central and parted the hangers. “Now this I like.” The dress hung loose under the chest, would hide her shape and still look fantastic with her red boots. It had almost no sleeves, and a pattern with more color than anything else in the store. And unlike the rest of the inventory, the fabric on this one actually flowed when you moved it. “What do you think?”

“That’s a nightgown, Zora.”

“So? It’s nice. I can dance in this.”

“You can’t wear a nightgown in public.”

“Wanna bet.” She could wear whatever the hell she wanted. She could go naked if she felt like it. In fact, a few of the venues she knew of required as much. She slung the dress over her shoulder and flashed her teeth at Murray. “I’m buying it.”

She enjoyed watching her sister’s mouth open and close, especially when no sound came out. Zora grinned and headed for the register. Nobody told her what to wear. Nobody. She felt her hand sneak toward the little cantaloupe on reflex and forced it back down to her side. Shit. She already worried enough about what Iggy thought of her, what he would think if he knew about everything in her, heavily populated, skeleton closet. The last thing she needed was to worry about what the baby would think.

But Murray had managed to spoil the party, as usual. And as she watched the Amaryllian woman ringing up her purchase, she couldn’t help but wonder what the baby would think. What kind of a mother wore a nightgown to a concert? Maybe a really hip one, or maybe, one who had absolutely no business whatsoever taking care of a baby.

Next Episode

We Interrupt this Broadcast...

2011-06-02T12:16:00.000-07:00

Sorry.

No, it's not a test of the emergency system. Though, that would be fun, eh?
I hate to break up the flow of the story, but from time to time, I do need to post a quick announcement. This time, it should be fun.

For those who don't already know, I am currently revising, Space Slugs: book one, for its pending print and ebook release. *yay*
So, now's your chance to point out any holes, erratta, typos, or things that just bugged the heck out of you. I'll listen, I promise.
If you have an opinion, chime in. I'm all ears.

Also, I've decided to add a bonus short story to the book. I have a couple of ideas, and I figured we'd take a grand old vote on which one I should include.

I'll be posting this on facebook, twitter etc. But feel free to cast your vote here in the comments.

Thanks guys,
Earth Burgers all around!
Frances

Bonus Story Options:

The attack on Zander's Zoo from Zora's perspective: the actual escape story, explosions and break out while Murray was in Zander's office.

Rook's backstory: How did he end up in pieces in Crantok's dungeon?

or other idea?

Episode Eight: Stanton

2011-05-23T12:55:00.000-07:00

“You were actually in the battle of Sparks?” Ignatius leaned forward, and Zora could see the fascination shimmer in his rapt expression.

“Well, not in exactly.” Stanton blinked two eyes, and fixed the third on her. It hadn’t taken him long to realize Zora ran with a different sort of crowd these days. “But I was there, yeah.”

Stanton’s escapades behind the lines at Sparks had netted him a senior position amongst the galaxy’s less public businessmen. The last time they’d spoken, his black market empire rivaled most of the sector’s planetary governments. Now, Ignatius hung on his every word, blissfully unaware of their dining companion’s more nefarious endeavors.

Murray ate her burger in silence, thank god, though Zora had caught her laughing silently at more than one of Stanton’s comments. She’d barely stifled the urge to bruise her sister’s shins with a good kick under the table.

The only bright side to the afternoon, as far as Zora could tell, was the food. She licked at a trail of juice running along her finger and smacked her lips around another hunk of burger. Not quite an Earth Burger, but with enough add-ons and sauce to come close. They even carried holo-relish. She put the burger down on her hover plate and swirled a fat fry through the dip. Awesome, burning-hot holo-relish.

So her baby’s maybe-father was chatting it up with one of the ghosts from her past, one of the many skeletons in her rather vast closet. Who could worry while enjoying a meal with this much grease involved? She chomped the fry and then dove on her spiral glass of Beam-berry smoothie—artificial, but sour enough to pucker a bot’s face.

“Yeah, we did,” Stanton continued, but she’d missed the first bit. She pushed aside a twinge of concern and kept eating. “She never told you?”

Zora sat up straight and froze.

“No,” Ignatius answered. “But we haven’t known each other quite that long.” He didn’t look at her, and the worry flared.

She checked with Murray for a clue, but her sister had turned to focus on the restaurant doorway where her husband stood, waiting for a break in the crowd and reflecting the overhead lighting into a rainbow across his silver hair. Yuck. They’d taken the metal thing a bit too far in Zora’s book. But then, she’d never fallen for an android—or whatever. To each their own.

“So, Zor,” Stanton broke the silence that seemed a tad on the awkward side. Damn it, she’d missed something all right. “Did you catch Haley’s Tale on Cyrus 2?”

“We’re going over there next.” She watched Iggy, but he’d developed a sudden interest in his plate.

“Too bad. The last show was yesterday.”

“Really?” At least something had worked out in her favor. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to see them again.” She heard Murray cough, but who cared? She’d dodged the band bullet, score one. Now all she had to do was get rid of Stanton—fast.

“But, hey, they’re coming here tonight. Maybe you guys could hang around one more day?”

“Oh, man. Murray’s got us on a tight schedule, I’m afraid. Deliveries, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stanton laughed and for a moment, the look he gave her reminded her of a time when she didn’t give a damn what anyone knew about her. She couldn’t help but smile. “Remember when we had to get that shipment of--.” He rolled his eyes to one side and paused less than subtly. “Medical supplies to the Farfeld Sector.”

“Oh, yeah.” As she remembered, it had been very rare booze and vapors to a small, restricted zone, but for a second, it all came rushing back. “Good times, Stanton.”

“Good times.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Zora let the nostalgia take her. Stanton had come right after her stint as a pirate, and they’d had a wild ride for a few months. Too wild. She’d had to phony up a ransom letter to get Murray to come rescue her that time. Murray. Maybe she’d gone a step too far once or twice as far as her sister went. She’d taken advantage, she’d pushed too far, and she was losing her damned mind. None of this had bothered her before.

“So what are you delivering now?”

“Endangered species.” Zora grinned.

The look on his face was priceless. She’d have given anything for a camera bot. “There much money in that?”

“None. My sister here’s a xenobiologist on a mission.”

All his eyebrows lifted at once. “I thought your sister died at birth?”

This time Murray choked for real. Rook showed up at exactly the right time. He smacked down a helping hand, and launched a hunk of pre-chewed burger free. Zora leaned back, Stanton ducked, and the offending food landed on a neighboring table. Thankfully, it was unoccupied.

“Jeeze, Mur.” Zora grinned. She heard Stanton chuckle, and almost could have sworn Iggy did as well.

“What did I miss?” Rook asked.

“Nothing important.” Murray glared across at Zora and sighed before turning to her rescuer. “How did it go?”

Rook shrugged wide, human shoulders and tilted his head to the side. He might have a brand new, hunky body, but he still acted like a robot. His silver eyes blinked just a tad too slow for a humanoid. “The sanctuary is acceptable, and the Cyrian government biologists are meeting us at the ship in half an hour.”

“Great!” Zora dove back into her fries. They’d be off the rock in no time and back to society where she belonged.

“But?” Murray added.

“But the port officials are posing a difficulty.”

Zora set the fry down and glared at Murray, as if it were her fault, as if her “but” had asked for trouble.

“There seems to be a problem with our trip papers,” Rook continued. “They want to inspect the ship, do a full scan and book us for departure late tomorrow.”

Stanton slammed a big fist down on the table, and Zora’s fries jumped. “That’s great!” The Triploid grinned and pushed her shoulder so hard she bounced off Mur before settling back upright. “You can stay for the show.”

“Huh?” Zora tried to focus, but the holo-relish made her eyes sting. She sniffed, and blinked and found Ignatius staring across the table at her.

“Are you all right, Zora?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She tried to read his look. Hell, she tried to read his mind, but she’d never been much of a psi. “Thanks.”

“Well I don’t like it,” Murray said. “Everything was supposed to be pre-arranged.”

“I don’t like it either.” Rook pulled a chair from an empty table across to join them and sat down beside his wife. “But at this point, I think we’re grounded until they give us to go-ahead.”

Zora saw the look they passed between them and stiffened. They both expected trouble, suspected more than just a routine scan. She frowned and turned back to her fries.

“Man!” Stanton threw a big arm across her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. “How lucky is that?”

Maybe it was too lucky. She caught the way Iggy’s eyes narrowed and felt her own suspicions stir. What had Stanton been up to since the last time they’d seen each other? She’d changed more than a little herself. Who could say what or who her Triploid friend was in bed with these days?

“This is great, Zora,” he said. “It’s gonna be just like old times.”

“Yeah.” Zora forced a smile. Just like the old times, exactly what she was afraid of.

Next Episode

Episode Seven: Cyrus 4

2011-04-26T13:47:00.000-07:00

“I want an Earth Burger.” Zora stared at the flashing directory and frowned. “They don’t have a Jeb’s here.”

“There’s one on Cyrus 2.” Murray raised one judgmental eyebrow at her. “You can’t wait till we get there?”

“I’m going to have to, aren’t I?” She scanned the port business list and frowned. “This place is a dump. How long are we here?”

Murray turned her back on her. She eyed the trickle of pedestrians crossing the station’s main floor and shrugged. “Only until we hand off the first batch of eggs. Rook thinks we need the port on Cyrus 2 for repairs.”

“Because this place is a dump.”

“Because it’s small.”

“Right.” She watched a family of Amarylians pass in front of the billboards. The mother tugged gently on the little girl’s purple hand, encouraging her forward past the flashing ad for Farah’s Frond and Feather. “They have any shopping at all here?” She frowned at the sign as the girl moved on. Cyrrus 2. Of course. Who’d open a Farah’s on Cyrus 4, where the local population obviously didn’t put too much effort into their hair.

“There’s a Bingies.” Murray had to be joking, but the look on her face claimed otherwise.

“Are you serious?”

“Their clothes are very sturdy, Zor.”

“Yeah, sturdy was what I was hoping for. No thanks. I’d rather pick through a dumpster behind Gillian’s.”

Murray sniffed and went board stiff. No doubt stretching the sturdy seams in the blouse she wore under a coat that looked suspiciously similar to the old lab version she used to wear. “Well, they don’t have a Gillian’s,” she snapped. “And we’re not here to shop anyway.”

“Fine.” Zora sighed and watched the foot traffic again. Maybe Mur had them replicate it, but she couldn’t imagine anyone doing that on purpose. A custom lab coat, please. Slightly shorter this time, but with the same, frumpy cut. “When are your science guys coming for the babies?”

“We have a few hours. As soon as Rook files our trip papers, we can grab something to eat.”

“Where?” She stared at the directory again, as if it would magically manifest a decent place to grab lunch. “Does Bingies serve sturdy burgers too?”

“Maybe you should grab something back on the ship.”

“Maybe you should--.” She caught sight of Ignatius over her sister’s shoulder. He stepped around the corner, slid aside to allow the Amarylians to pass, and looked across the port’s main aisle, squinting until his gaze found them. His arm came up in a wave, and he smiled. “I’m gonna grab something back on the ship,” Zora said.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Murray leaned in conspiratorially, but forgot to lower her voice. “Why not just tell him?”

“Tell him what?” She took a step back, but kept her eyes on the approaching Emperor.

“Oh, I don’t know, Zora. Maybe tell him you’re pregnant, maybe tell him he might be the father, or maybe just tell him that you’re crazy about him.”

“Shut up, Mur.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Good.” She kept backing up. “Cause it’s none of your damn business.”

Murray didn’t get it. No lie. Cause hey, I’m pregnant, wouldn’t exactly be easy. Cause hey, remember that one night, couldn’t really cover it. Cause, you might be the father, but so might a four-armed reptilian overlord from the planet Crag didn’t quite roll off the tongue, did it?

He was an Emperor.

She shook her head and ignored her sister’s disapproving frown. No way in hell, she was telling him. Instead, she avoided his gaze and spun around, intent on a quick escape to her quarters and the last bit of Venusian chocolate she’d stashed under her pillow. Her route to freedom, however, was blocked by a wide, hairy chest.

“Zora?” A deep voice, slightly familiar. “Is that you?”

She cringed and peeked up and to the side, praying the voice belonged to some casual acquaintance--a childhood friend, a teacher, even her high school principal would have worked. Instead she followed the open collar of a loose, white shirt to a rough, unshaven jaw. Three big blue eyes twinkled above a hooked nose, and they knew her far too well for comfort.

“Stanton,” she all but whispered. “How the hell are you?”

“Zora!” His laugh reached the far side of the port, and his stout arms lifted her before she could squeak in protest. “Where have you been, woman?” He spun her in a large circle, one that blurred the station around them, but didn’t quite block out the sight of Iggy’s frown. It passed her twice, punctuated by Murray’s pinched, uptight grimace, and she couldn’t tell which made her more nauseous, the spinning or the view.

Either way, she staggered to the side when Stanton put her back on her feet, and he had to throw an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

“You all right?” He winked the middle eye. “How long has it been?”

“Years.” She tried to smile, but he still tilted to one side, and her stomach lurched.

“We,” Murray put more stress on the word than Zora would have called polite. “Were just going to get something to eat.”

“Great!” Stanton bellowed. He had more lung power than most humanoids, she recalled. Three eyes, three lungs, three--. She needed to ditch him, and fast. Ditch him before any conversation ensued, before disaster could strike. “I know a great burger joint, Zor. You’ll love it.”

Burgers. Her stomach turned on her. Apparently, her mouth obeyed it these days. “Fab! I’d kill for a burger right now,” it said. She grinned up at the Triploid and ignored the pang of doubt. If Stanton remembered too much about the last time he saw her, she just might have to.

Next Episode

Episode Six: The Tail

2011-04-03T11:01:00.000-07:00

“Pirates?” Zora stared at the main screen where a series of flashing red lights blinked in random, hypnotic patterns. “What the hell do they want with us?”

“Several million credits worth of contraband livestock embryos?” Ignatius stood beside her. He frowned at the screen, and one of his hands still rested distractingly in the small of her back. “The slug eggs?”

“How could they know about them?” Murray spun her chair away from the console long enough to glare at Zora. “I thought they might be friends of yours until they started shooting.” Her raised eyebrow said she still considered it a possibility.

Zora stiffened. “I don’t consort with Pirates, Mur. Jeeze.” Her eyes drifted to Ignatius. Did he buy it? Murray didn’t. She snorted and went back to the console. Rook didn’t even glance in away from the controls, but she thought she saw his shoulders shaking, just a little. Damn them both.

She didn’t imagine the Emperor of a planet full of clone children would consort with pirates. She could imagine what he’d think of someone who had. She could guess exactly how he’d feel about any woman who’d signed on with a ship of marauders, who’d once been known as “The Bloody Red Angel of Nardul Eleven,” who’d had to slip away in the night before her term of service ended in a wedding to the Dark Star himself. She doubted he’d care how much Martian Tequila was involved in the decision either.

That pretty much summed up her whole damned problem, didn’t it? Zora had been around the block one time too many, and she’d had a damned good time along the way. The way she saw it, no one like Ignatius could get past a great many of the things lurking in her past. The Emperor might have eleven wives, but as far as she could tell, he’d never slept with even one of them. The man was a freaking Saint, and she was, well, she was not.

She’d be better off with at least a half a galaxy between them.

“Did they do much damage?” Ignatius dropped his hand from her back and moved toward the pilot’s chair. “I assume you’ve lost them?”

“They ceased hostile activity when we approached the jump gate,” Rook said. He still sounded like a bloody android, flesh or not. “I believe they wished to remain out of range of the authorities.”

“I should think.”

“As to the damage, we sustained little more than minor hull abrasions. I suspect they never intended to damage us at all.” He, also, turned an accusing look at her.

“What?”

“If they were interested in our cargo,” Ignatius interjected. “Then it would follow that they’d want minimum damage.”

“Yeah.” Zora nodded along. “That makes perfect sense.”

“Then why attack so close to a jump gate?” Murray joined in, still characteristically blaming her for everything. “And I can’t see how anyone would know about the eggs.”

“Oh, come on, Mur. You’ve got the activists scrounging for planets to keep them on. Don’t you think someone might have let it slip?”

“Maybe someone let it slip, yes.”

“I’m not sure I like how you’re saying someone, Mur. You want to come out and accuse me of something?” She stared daggers at her sister.

Instead of arguing, Murray darted a nervous look toward the pilot’s side of the cabin. She shook her head, caved and turned back to her controls. Zora bit back a growl and watched the three of them examining the screens and gauges. Once again, they’d gone all funny on her.

“What’s the first stop?” She watched the jump gate swing into view. It pulsed and spiraled inside the containment ring like a trapped star.

“Cyrrus 4.” Rook said, still clipped and reminiscent of his long-lost metallic voice box.

“Really?”

“Yes, and yes,” Murray answered the question without giving her time to ask. “We’ll stop at Cyrrus 2 as soon as the first batch of eggs is delivered.”

“Good.” Cyrrus 2 brought back another flood of memories. These, though less illegal, still widened the chasm she needed to put between her and the Emperor. “I could use to do some shopping.”

She needed new clothes. Her swelling midsection wouldn’t stay invisible for long under the shirts she’d brought. Her hand flickered toward the belly, but she fought the instinct and pressed it to one hip instead. There had to be a shop somewhere on Cyrrus 2 that sold mu-mus, god help her.

Murry kept rattling on. They needed supplies—good—the galley looked dangerously empty, and she could stash a few dozen more Earth Burgers for the next leg of the trip. They needed to repair any hull abrasions. Fine. She’d rather not have a hull breech cut her stint at motherhood short before she even had the chance to count the baby’s arms.

Ignatius turned away from rook and flashed her a grin that made her knees wobble. He was damn adorable, if only--. “Cyrrus 2?” His eyes sparked, and he rubbed his hands together. Maybe. “Fantastic. I think Haley’s Tail is playing a series there.”

Zora’s hopes deflated. Haley’s Tail. She shook her head and gave him her most clueless face. “I’m not sure I’ve heard of them.”

At the console, Murray choked on her air. Rook half-turned in her direction, but neither of them ratted on her directly.

“Oh good,” Ignatius continued. His voice danced with excitement. “I just know you’ll love them.”

“All of them, I should suspect.” Rook said.

She almost didn’t blame him. That would have been a hard one to let pass. She might even have laughed at it before her current predicament once upon a time when she was still the old Zora. Even now, maybe, if she hadn’t been staring in to a pair of lovely, expectant eyes that had no idea why Murray was trembling with unexpressed spasms of humor.

“Fun.” She tried to sound like she looked forward to the horror. “I think I’m gonna go back to my room now.”

Maybe they wouldn’t even remember her. She told herself that a few times on her way off the bridge. Maybe. She knew better. A night with The Bloody Red Angel wasn’t something you just forgot. One corner of her mouth managed to curl into a faint smile. Even new and improved Zora could appreciate that, and if her memory still served, it had been one hell of a night.

Next Episode

Episode Five: The Stowaway

2011-03-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

Zora leaned back in the bed and flung another shoe at the door. It bounced against the metal, hit the floor and rolled to a stop beside the last three she’d launched in a similar trajectory. “Go away.”

“Zora, this is ridiculous.” Murray sighed and thumped something against the panel—maybe her head. “You can’t stay in here for the whole flight.”

“Wanna bet?” She leaned over and opened the storage panel beside her cot. The stash of food looked a lot bigger before take-off, but then, she’d snacked pretty much non-stop since finding Ignatius in their kitchen. She counted the cartons and rolled her eyes. “I’ve got enough food stashed in here to feed three people for a week.” She’d be able to polish it off in three days, but Murray didn’t know that, did she?

“Let me in, Zor.”

“Why?”

“We need to talk.”

“It’s funny you should say that, Mur, since you haven’t talked to me about any of your little plans up to this point. Why start now?”

“Fine, Zora. You want to stay in here alone and pout, go ahead.”

Footsteps rang in reverse as Murray abandoned her effort. Good. Fine. She reached around the bed for another projectile, just for sport, and found a solitary pink slipper. The puffy fabric made a poor excuse for a missile, but she winged it anyway. The slipper slapped against the door, sounding pathetic even to her ears, and the whole room leaned abruptly to one side.

“What the hell?” Zora stood up and stumbled around the bed. Her room jumped again, this time of its own accord, and she heard the far off zing of lasers firing. “Son of a bitch.”

The next lurch carried her to the door, and she hit the control panel and fell out into the hallway beyond. The craft steadied long enough for a shudder of metal to ripple through it, and then listed sharply in the other direction. Battle. That was definitely and evasive maneuver.

She was the worst mother in the galaxy.

One of her hands wrapped around her middle on reflex, like somehow she could shelter her womb from ship to ship combat. What had she done? Bringing her unborn child into space? Hell, the man she’d been running from ended up in their galley anyway. She’d have been safer in more ways than one with her feet and her belly firmly on the ground.

She fought a wave of panic and slid down the hall. Her free hand against the nearest wall steadied her progress, and she kept her feet through three more hull impacts before reaching the junction that led to the bridge in one direction and the galley and cargo bays in the other.
She looked back and frowned. He might still be down there, but someone really should check on the eggs. She looked to the front. Of course, he could have gone to the bridge by now too. Damn it.

Zora growled and stomped her foot. The ship leapt forward, and she lost her wall, tripped backwards and landed against the corner of the hallway. The baby fluttered in her stomach, protesting the sudden movement. Real fear drove her feet now. She stepped into the branch and started toward the bridge.

Another dive sent her back three steps. The lights faded to auxiliary power. Both her arms flailed for something to grab onto. Her fingertips brushed a wall, but it jumped away as they dodged another round of fire. Zora wobbled. The floor rang with stamping feet, but she couldn’t see the wall beside her let alone get turned in the right direction.

The baby moved again, and she bit back a scream. What if the hull were breached? What if they didn’t make it? She pressed her eyes shut and tried to think of something to pray to.

“Zora?” The footsteps stopped.

“Help!”

His hands found her shoulders. One arm slid under her arms and helped her back to her feet. She leaned into Ignatius the First and bit back a terrified whimper.

“Zora, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” The ship shook again, and she pressed against him.

“It’s okay.” He drew her closer and wrapped both arms around her back. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know.” She inhaled, couldn’t help it. She hadn’t forgotten how good he smelled for a second. “I think someone’s shooting at us.”

“It would appear so.” One of his hands shifted. His fingers found her hair and curled against her shoulder.

“I—I was worried about the eggs.” She closed her eyes and remembered why he felt so good. She remembered exactly how his hands moved, exactly how they fit together.

“I just came from there.” His voice held a familiar edge, low and intense.

Zora imagined his lips forming the words. She leaned up to the faint outline of his face and remembered how it felt to kiss him. The outline dipped in her direction, and she held her breath, waited for it. Instead, light flooded the hallways. They froze for a second. Both staring and far too close to doing something she’d gone through hell to avoid.

The hum of power returning buzzed through the floor underfoot. The lights reached full power, and Ignatius didn’t loosen his grip on her even a fraction. For Zora’s part, she found her arms quite inexplicably wound around his neck. When had that happened?

He blinked once and tilted his head almost imperceptibly to the side. A question lingered in his eyes. Every part of her wanted to answer it. Every part except her conscience—the one she’d never even known she possessed before him. She dropped her arms to her side and looked directly at his chest.

“I’m really confused,” he whispered.

“I know.” She almost looked up, but the movement in her belly set her resolve. “So am I.”

“It’s okay, Zora.”

She shook her head. Her throat closed around a flood of emotion. She sniffed. He never hesitated, Emperor Ignatius. He took her in his arms again, this time gently, innocently, and let her sob into his chest. He was confused. Hell, she damn near couldn’t tell which way was up anymore.

This close to him she couldn’t be sure of anything. Not her choices or her future or her damned conscience. She’d never survive with him on board, not with her plan intact. The clone Emperor would be the death of her. That is, if they weren’t blown up or shot down first.

Either way, it would prove to be one hell of a trip.

Next Episode

Episode Four: Goodbyes

2011-02-24T10:40:00.000-08:00

Neela’s eye stalks drooped in a sad arch to either side of her head. They drizzled ooze in a cool trail down Zora’s back. She let it slide. The sonic shower could take care of the slime later.

“It’ll be okay.” She rubbed a section of pink neck and sighed. “I’ll come back to see you.”

“Neep.”

She had to be imagining the depression behind that. Teepo and Neela would be fine. The Emperor had granted them one sweet set-up under his champagne domes. Though the pair’s mating frenzy had slowed considerably, there still should be a small horde of slug babies to romp with shortly.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” She patted the gelatinous hide again and sighed. When would that be? It wasn’t like Ignatius was prone to leaving. If she ever came back, it would have to be for a quick visit, or after enough time had passed that it didn’t matter anymore.

Footsteps pattered against the grass behind her. She turned to find her sister, still glowing from the night before and with her hair down for the first time in about fifteen years.

“You ready?” Murray asked.

“Yeah. What’s with the hair?” She looked over Mur’s shoulder, back toward the main building and to either side. No one else wandered in their direction.

“You always said I should try it down.”

“Huh? Oh, right. It looks good.” She frowned and looked toward the hangars. Nobody stalked them there, either.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah. More than ready.” She sniffed and pulled her hand away from Neela, trailing goo and not caring. “Time to boogie.”

They trekked to the hangar bay and found the Slug One prepped and ready for take-off. Zora scowled at the buttoned up cargo hatch and followed Murray to the passenger ramp. No one tried to stop her.

“Rook has the clearance filed and our first stop programmed,” Murray said. “We should have the first batch of eggs to their new home in two days.”

“Great.”

“You all right?”

“Of course.” Zora stomped up the slim ramp. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She continued to the bridge, letting her footfall echo through the short corridor and stamping a good deal of her frustration into the trip. She was better than all right. She was fan-freaking-tastic.

“There you are.” Rook spun his chair around when they entered. “Tower’s given us the okay, already.”

“We’re good,” Murray said. She slid into the chair beside him and secured her restraint. “You good, Zor?”

“Sure.” Zora dropped into a couch on the wall and buckled up. “I’m good.”

“Everyone good?” Rook’s voiced echoed through the cabin. He’d switched on the ship’s comm. and his order to “Strap in.” reverberated through the whole bloody vessel.

“Yeah,” Zora snapped. “We can hear you.”

Rook gave Murray a look, and they both turned back to the navigation screens. Murray’s hand reached out and settled on Rook’s thigh. He worked the controls, toggled up the engines and signaled the tower that they were ready.

She felt invisible—not something she’d experienced before. Her spine pressed back against the couch padding and she twisted her lips together. This trip would basically qualify as their honeymoon. They’d deliver the slug eggs, they’d let her tag along, but the newlyweds would focus entirely on one another.

Fine.

“I think I’m going to enjoy take-off from the couch in Cargo,” she announced. Her hand moved to unhitch her straps, but both her shipmates spun on her.

“No!” They hollered in stereo.

“Scuse me?”

“We don’t have time,” Rook said.

“It’s not safe for the baby,” Murray added.

Zora narrowed her eyes and frowned. “What the hell?”

“Slug One you are go for lift off,” the comm. brattled.

Rook’s hands flew across the console and the whole bridge vibrated as the engines roared to full. The cabin lurched and jiggled as they left the pad. So much for escape. Zora settled back against the wall and sighed. The room tilted and then quickly leveled out.

“Nice flying there,” she said.

“Sorry.” Rook switched to thrusters and they shot forward. The force pressed them all against their seats, and any further comments died in the howl and rattle of leaving the atmosphere.

At least they’d gotten away. At least she didn’t have Ignatius I to worry about anymore. She could handle the honeymooners. She could hide in her room if necessary. Her stomach gargled disagreement.

“Hey!” She shouted over the noise. “Hey! Mur?”

“What?” Murray swiveled her chair just as the engines settled. The ship burst free from the planet and the quiet hum returned.

“Did you stock the kitchen before we left?”

“Yeah. The Emperor provided--.”

“Right. Thanks.” Zora flung off her restraints and stood up.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“To get something to eat. Shit, Mur. I can find my way to the kitchen, right?”

“Of course, but--.”

“Give it a rest.” She waved an arm at her sister and turned her back on both of them, heading for the doors. Nobody tried to stop her. “We’re hungry,” she added, tapping her middle with the free hand for emphasis as she slipped out into the hallway.

The doors closed out the bridge and any retort Murray might work up. Damn it. She didn’t need a nanny. She needed a bloody Earth Burger. The hall boomed as she stormed to the kitchen, to the room where she’d met, not so long ago, with a group of revolutionaries to plot the downfall of the Damascan government. That had been fun.

Wouldn’t be many revolutions in her future, would there? She stopped and looked to either side guiltily. Her arm wrapped over her middle again and she gave it a soft pat. Not that she minded. She just didn’t care so much for the over protective routine either. She’d find stuff to do. There would be lots of things she could do with a baby in tow.

Different things.

She stared at the kitchen doors. He stomach fluttered, and she thought about skipping the snack. She could settle into her room. Heaven knew she’d be spending enough time there. But she was hungry. Despite the little butterflies dancing in her tummy, she’d been starving a minute ago. She reached for the panel and froze. Butterflies?

The flutter came again, gentle and completely foreign to her body. The baby. The little shit was moving. Her arm fell away from the door. Both hands rested on her small belly. She held her breath. She felt it again, like air bubbles, like a tiny little twitch. Her baby was moving, and she could feel it.

What did it want? She felt a surge of panic. Maybe takeoff hadn’t been a good idea. Maybe it was freaked out, or hurt. Maybe it needed something. Her mind scrambled. She didn’t know enough about this. The poor thing was screwed.

It moved again, and her stomach joined it this time, growling at her in complaint. That one, she understood. She was hungry. Maybe the baby was hungry too? She nodded and gave it another pat. She could feed it, at least. She wasn’t that inept. She’d grab a snack and then they’d settle in. If they were going to hide in their room, she could spend some time reading, maybe?

She pushed the door panel. The ship’s data banks probably had a ton of information on babies. She could tap into the Gen-fed library once they were near enough to a relay. She nodded to herself as the door slid open and then she stepped into the kitchen.

It smelled delicious. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with some kind of bread. Whatever was heating in the oven panel called to her hunger, but she completely missed it. Her total attention fixed on the man standing beside the counter.

Emperor Ignatius Superius I leaned against it and sipped at his coffee. He stared at her over the mug, and a grin flashed across his face like a comet trail.

Next Episode

Episode Three: The Father

2011-01-24T19:31:00.000-08:00

“I can’t do it.” Zora clutched at her skirts and glowered at her sister. “I can’t.”

“This is not really the time to be difficult, Zor.” Murray flung her veil over one arm and stared her down. “I’m not kidding.”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“No shit.” Murray narrowed her eyes and snarled. “I wonder why?”

“Please, Mur. You go first.”

“I’m the bride, Zora.”

She could have sworn a flash of red glowed behind Murray’s eyes. The veil crinkled as it was squished tighter. In the distance, soft music started.

“You should have told me.” She wanted to fight. Losing to Murray wasn’t her style, and she didn’t intend to get used to it, but the whole devil bride thing worked. It scared the crap out of her. “Fine!”

She stomped out of the tent. The amber dome refracted the lowering sunlight and cast the whole courtyard into a blush of pink. It was gorgeous. So were the flowers, the ribbons, the neon blue holographic centerpieces. She growled under her breath, tugged her skirt higher and tramped across the grass to the head of the aisle.

The musician hit the volume and played a slight beat faster. The clone guests’ heads swiveled in her direction. A lot of guests—Zora stopped and stood taller. She brushed her hair back and swallowed her scowl. She could do this. She could do it with dignity. She stared down the row to the altar and cringed. Maybe.

She took a deep breath.

At the altar Rook leaned over and whispered to the Father. Zora’s lip quivered. She exhaled and started forward. She stopped. The music stuttered. Damn Murray anyway. She should have told her.

She imagined running for it. The ship was loaded, stocked and ready to fly. She could handle it as far as the nearest station. She could hire a pilot—somehow. But that wasn’t her style anymore, was it?

She took a step, and another. The music swelled, sped up as if to encourage her, to keep her moving forward. A sea of smiles to either side and Rook in front—just see Rook. He looks nice, doesn’t he? Shiny hair, nice suit. The new body’s working for him, then. That’s nice.

Her eyes flicked sideways. Damn it. She forced her feet to continue, but they wanted to bolt. She wanted to let them. The music said, keep going. You can do it.

Father Mund. They definitely should have told her. She’d be holding on to this grudge a good long time.

She stopped in front of the Emperor and tried to frown at the bastard. The blush creeping into her cheeks probably ruined the effect.

He smiled at her. She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded. At least they were in public. At least he had a job to do. He wouldn’t have time to even--.

“Hello, Zora.”

She looked to the side. Rook just smiled and stared back down the aisle as if the minister wasn’t chatting in the middle of his wedding.

“Hello.” She remembered her part and slid to the other side.

“You look lovely.” Ignatius Superius I stared at her.

“Uh. Thanks.” The music shifted and she heard a couple hundred clones stand up together.

“Like a goddess.”

She stared at him. “It’s the dress.” Didn’t he have something to do?

She was pretty sure Murray had already started down the aisle. He should be saying something to the crowd, shouldn’t he?

Instead, he leaned closer and stared directly into her eyes. She bit her cheek again.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, but she was pretty sure Rook heard him.

She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. The bride was coming. She’d made it half way down the aisle and only had eyes for the groom. Great. That was considerate.

She should have bolted when she had the chance. But he looks nice in the suit as well, doesn’t he? Like a goddess he said. He misses you. The ship was loaded and ready. She turned and stared at Murray. The dress glowed around the edges. It matched the lapel on Rook’s suit. Nice touch.

She could be off-planet in forty minutes, tops.

Murray stopped and took Rook’s hand. The music faded. They both smiled. Son of a bitch.

“Dearly beloved,” Father Ignatius Mund began.

Zora sniffed. This grudge would last her a long damn time. She felt the heat behind her eyes and set her jaw. It was a wedding, after all. Everybody cried at weddings. Except Zora. That is, except the old Zora. She sniffled uselessly against it.

It just wasn’t her style, was it?

Next Episode

Episode Two: The Bridesmaid

2011-01-06T14:30:00.000-08:00

“It’s hideous.” Zora scowled at her reflection and turned sideways. The view didn’t improve in the least.

“It’s not.”

“Come on, Mur. It’s a tent.”

“It’s just the empire waist, Zor. You’re not used to it.” Murray dropped into a squat and smoothed out the yardage in Zora’s skirt. The dress continued to look like a tent—a shiny, orchid-colored tent.

“God, Mur. It makes me look like a big, fat—.”

“It makes you look like a goddess.” Her sister stood and peered at her through narrowed eyes. “Granted, a fiery, pissed off goddess, but still.” She held up a hand when Zora started another round of protest. “And it hides your little secret, Zor. Doesn’t it?”

It did, and nicely too. Zora ran her hands down the front of the dress. She pulled the fabric tight and showed, just for a second, the mound of her belly. Mur had picked the dress with that in mind, no doubt. She’d chosen it out of consideration for Zora’s situation.

She sniffed and dropped her arms to her sides again. She left the mirror and crossed to the window. It opened on the first ever Space Slug preserve—even if it were a covert one.

“Zor?”

“What?” She sniffed again and watched Neela lumber over to a cluster of newly planted trees. The mollusk duo had eaten nearly every green thing originally in the garden, but the emperor’s clones did a fantastic job of replanting and replacing the devoured foliage.

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

Murray knew better than to push the issue and that fact sent a follow-up wave of sniffling through her. Stupid. Another bizarro side-effect of her pregnancy—she cried at the drop of a freaking hat. She stifled the tears with a clenched jaw and a surge of anger. She didn’t need special consideration. She needed an Earth Burger, but she’d eaten the last of her stash three days ago. She’d have to settle for getting the hell off the planet and back to the real world.

“When are we leaving again?” She wiped aside the last traces of her idiocy and turned back to Murray.

“As soon as the wedding’s over.”

“Promise?”

“Of course, Zora. The eggs are loaded, the schedule is in place and half a dozen planets are eagerly waiting for your little embryonic slug babies. Okay?”

“Whatever. Can we stop at Jeb’s?”

“Yes.” Murray stared at her for a moment, and she didn’t like the look on her face one bit.

“How about your dress?” There was only one way to distract Mur these days, and Zora had learned it in spades. “Is it ready?”

The suspicious concern melted from Murray’s place in a sweep of bridal bliss. She glowed instantly. “Do you want to see it?” Her voice bubbled like it hadn’t since they were kids and their father brought home a book on rare xeno-parasites.

“Yeah.” Zora suppressed a shudder at the memory and pasted on a happy face. “Of course.” Murray drifted from the room is a cloud of swoony bride-to-be, and Zora almost reverted to early stage, vomiting.

She missed the vomiting. It beat her chronic weeping by a mile.

She stomped to the bed and flopped down, sitting, because she already had trouble getting comfortable lying down. Her bottom lip slid out on instinct. Pregnancy sucked. Nothing made any sense, nothing was comfortable and she’d turned into a pathetic, emotional wimp. It was like she’d been possessed by some insipid, domestic housewife.

She cringed and bit her lip. Not a chance. She’d fly the Slug One into the nearest sun first. She’d make a run for it, hit deep space and deliver her baby in the shadow of some uncharted supernova. She’d damn sure do it.

It wasn’t like anyone would notice. She bit down harder at the urge to sniffle again. She didn’t want them to notice. She wanted to be left alone. Thank god Ignatius had finally taken the hint. Thank god he’d stopped trying to corner her, dogging her steps, asking Mur about her constantly.

“Are you crying again?”

“Nope.” Zora’s head snapped up. She caught a blurry glimpse of Murray standing in the doorway and looking very white and puffy. “Wow. That’s beautiful, Mur.”

“It’s just the slip.”

Zora wiped her eyes and watched her sister drag an impossibly long garment bag through the doorway. “Oh. Right.”

“I didn’t want anyone to see the dress.”

“So you’ve been wandering the halls in your underwear?” The slip in question covered more skin than most of Zora’s clothes did. Still, it classified as an undergarment in her book, even with the huge, poufy skirt.

“Just help me.” Murray heaved the front portion of the vinyl bag onto the bed and grunted. “Pull the train inside and shut the door.”

By the time she’d managed to haul the rest of her sister’s gown inside her room, Murray had peeled back the zipper to expose the bodice and sleeves. She sidled up beside Mur and leaned over the bed.

“You think you guys are taking the silver thing a little too far?”

“No.”

“It’s really pretty, Mur.”

“Thanks.” Mur’s voice caught and she stood up straight and sniffed.

“Don’t do it, Mur.” Zora stepped back fast. “Don’t start.”

“I know, but--.”

“You know I can’t handle it right now.”

“I know.” Murray sighed. She reached inside the silver neckline and something clicked softly. The edges of the dress glowed to life with a thin filament of electric blue. “Look.”

“It’s got running lights.”

“Cyber stitching.” Murray’s hand traced the line of light down the bodice to the beginning of the skirt. “Just a touch.”

“It’s gorgeous.” Zora ground her teeth against the pressure behind her eyes.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t cry, Mur.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Damn it.”

Murray snagged a tissue from the bedside shelf and handed it over. While Zora dabbed at her eyes, she produced a second one for herself. Things had gone one step too far past ridiculous.
“It’s a great dress, Mur.” She wadded the tissue back into a ball. “Now get me the hell off this planet, okay?”

“As soon as the wedding’s over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It couldn’t happen a second too soon in Zora’s book. Once they’d ditched the planet, the clones and Emperor Ignatius Superius I, she’d be able to think again. Once she had a little distance, she could get back to normal. She sniffed and snatched the second tissue without looking her sister in the face. Distance, that’s what she needed--the sooner the better.

Next Episode

Episode One: Exchange Rate

2010-12-18T14:31:00.000-08:00

The cruiser’s engines howled through the landing bay, kicking up a notch in protest as they shifted to idle. The atmospheric thrusters took over, and the wedge shaped hull stilled above the pad. The churn of disturbed air tossed Zora’s hair in her face, even tucked in behind the Slug One’s landing gear, even hiding in the shadow of her ship’s bulk.

She brushed it away and chewed on her lower lip. The cruiser touched down, and the thrusters cut off abruptly. She watched the docking crew scurry into position, watched the light signals run their clearance pattern along the bunker wall.

She had no idea what they said, but the clones responded like a machine, leaping to secure landing gear and clear the pathway for the cruiser’s cargo to be unloaded. Hover sleds lined up neatly, waiting to accept whatever the ship brought with it. The big door at the ship’s rear cracked open and began it’s slow descent to the hangar floor.

Zora could have cared less. She pressed her body against the cool landing gear and rolled her eyes. Her contact would be off last. He’d have to make sure the rest of the crew and cargo cleared the area. She frowned and fought off the urge to storm up the ship’s ramp. She could wait. She’d survived this long without it. How hard could a few more minutes be?

She waited. By the time the clones had filled two of the hover sleds, her nails dragged little tracks in the Slug One’s landing gear. She listened to them scritch, scritch and chewed her lip again. Maybe she should board the cruiser, find her guy and get her package without delay. It was perishable after all, something awful could happen to it if she waited.

She stood up and paced the shadow’s length. She needed that package, damn it. How much freaking cargo did the ship have anyway? How important could the stupid crates be?

The whine of hydraulics spun her back around again. She slipped back to her post behind the metal pillar. The cruiser’s hatch lifted back into position, while the hover sleds tracked to the hangar exit. Clones escorted each, marching in line beside the piled crates. Perfect.

Her pulse revved up. She tensed and focused a narrow gaze on the cruiser. Her guy would be last. She’d made sure he was nobody, a mechanic or something along those lines. Something stupid. She waited while the bridge hatch popped, watched the pilot swagger down the ramp while it still extended. Stupid, but not stupid enough.

His crew followed once the plank hit bottom. Zora ignored them and kept her eyes on the hatch. A few minutes passed. The crew tailed their hot shot pilot out into the city. The lights on the hangar walls dimmed, stopped flashing and held at auxiliary.

Her gut twisted. She growled and considered storming the ship again. Who’d stop her now? She glanced back toward the Slug One’s ramp. She’d tucked her own package into the gap under the bottom, and didn’t relish the idea of hauling it back out again.

She should wait. No. She should go and fetch her contact. Wait. Go. Damn it!

Footsteps tapped across metal. She turned back to the ship. A fat guy in greasy overalls stomped down the ramp. He held a paper bag, rumpled, grease stained and more beautiful that the sunset on Cyrrus 2.

She held her breath and slid quietly back into the dark. The guy approached casually, acted like he might just walk on by before stopping to examine something imaginary on the bottom of his shoe. Zora heard him whisper.

“Is that a bug, or am I on camera?”

She smiled and slid forward. “It’s a bug,” she answered. “I’ve never seen one that big, though.”

He chuckled and sidestepped under the Slug One. “You must be Zora.”

“And that must be my package.”

She didn’t miss the guy’s grip tightening on her bag, nor did she like the look he gave her. It started at her hips and raked up to just below her shoulders.

“It must be,” he said. “But you said you’d make it worth the effort.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“So.” He looked her in the eyes for the first time. “Whatcha going to do for me, then?”

“Not what you think.” Zora grinned at him. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

She almost pulled it off, but he raised one eyebrow and snorted.

“I’m not anymore, okay?” She stomped a foot at him. He was holding her bag so tight she feared he’d squish it completely. “Look. I’ve got something better.”

“Better?”

“Well, just as good.” She waved him over to the ramp and bent down to the box she’d stashed. The damned thing weighed a ton, but she managed to wrangle it back out from hiding. She kicked it along the last few inches. “This should do the trick.”

He whistled and leaned down.

“If you squish that,” she snapped. “The deal’s off.”

He set her bag down and examined the bottles nesting in the crate. Lifting one, he read the label and let out a long whistle. Good. The guy knew fine Glow Gin when he saw it.

“Where did you get this?” He stood up and squinted at her.

“It was a gift.” In truth Iggy gave the Gin to Murray, but the smell of the stuff made Zora puke ever time her sister tried to pour a drink, and Mur finally relented and threw it out.

“Then what gives?”

“I don’t know what you mean?” Zora’s eyes fell to the bag on the hangar floor. She could smell it from where she stood. If he tried to back out on her, she just might have to kick his ass.

“This stuff,” he waved at her crate of Glow Gin. “Is worth twenty times what I’ve brought.”

“Not to me.”

“You’re nuts, Lady.” He wavered. She could see his fat brain trying to sort out some kind of trap. It hardly mattered. She’d picked the right guy. Greed would win over self-preservation every time. “But whatever. Your loss.”

“Thank you.” She nodded and bit back a catty retort.

He lifted the box, grunting, but managing far better than she had. She stepped aside, but kept her eye on him till he’d stepped away from the bag, away from her ship and back out into the open hangar. She watched until he’d reached his own ramp, until he’d scurried back inside to hide his score.

Her smile faded as soon as the hatch closed. She dove on the bag. Clutching it close to her chest, she slunk out of the shadows and dashed up the ramp into the Slug One. Her footsteps sang along the metal flooring. They beat a short path to the cargo bay, stopping long enough for her to trigger the door and slip silently into the huge space.

The lights were off. The Emperor’s people had modified the bay to carry hundreds of trays of rare Space Slug eggs, and the incubators glowed a soft blue in three lines down the room’s center. Two of the lines were full. One more day of loading and they’d be set to leave.

Whatever. She leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the cold bay floor. Her fingers tore the bag open, and the smell escaped in full force. She inhaled. Two weeks ago, it probably would have made her hurl. Amazing what two weeks could do. She pulled out a soft sphere wrapped in purple foil and grinned at it. She read the stamp along the seam, just to torture herself, just to prolong the moment—EARTH BURGER. Heaven.

She counted them—six big burgers—and sighed. So much better than Gin. She peeled back the wrapper and eyed the fat, oily sandwich. Her stomach growled, echoing through the cargo bay. She patted her belly, felt the bump that used to be her nice, tight abs and sighed again. Six burgers should be enough for one tiny baby.

She squinted at the bag again. It didn’t look like much, really. She’d have to go slow, to stretch them out until they got the hell out of Dodge and back to civilization. Or, another thought whispered, she could eat them all in one sitting. One big meal might be more satisfying, might smother the craving once and for all.

She shrugged and turned back to the wad of beef. It glistened at her, evil, delicious. “Well,” she grinned and lifted it closer. Her teeth flashed in the low light. “Hello, you sexy devil.”

Next Episode

Updates from the Slugverse

2010-12-02T08:11:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been a little while, and I can truly say that the hiatus has left me missing my story something fierce. Sure, I've been writing like crazy, hammering out a nano novel and the crowning installment of my trilogy and numerous other pre-holiday things.

(Including a new release: http://www.awe-struck.net/books/the_dimensional_shift.html )

But it isn't the same without my slugs. :-(

SO, I am going to bust my arse to get the opening installment of book two: Slug Opera up and running by Jan. Maybe or maybe not the first.
In the meantime, there will be an ebook, edited, revised and a lot prettier coming out for book one, and a print edition as well. Not by Jan. first, I can guarantee it.

I also promise to keep both of those as close to free as I possibly can. The print edition will have to have some cost involved.

However, it does have a glorious cover designed by my good friend and talented author, Jaleta Clegg. Want to see it?

good. Thar she blows....

Episode Forty-One: A New Bob

2010-10-27T17:27:00.000-07:00

Zora squealed and ducked behind her slug. She hit the grass and crawled out of sight, her short skirt revealing more of her choice in panties than Murray had ever hoped to see. She shuddered and peeked around the slimy pink wall that was Neela’s neck. “What the hell are you doing.?”

“Shhh.” Zora’s hair stuck to the side of the mollusk, gooed in place. She leaned against her pet and shook her head. “I’m not here. You haven’t seen me.”

Murray sighed and looked back toward the garden’s entrance. The force field that should have stretched between the gateposts had dropped, and Ignatius Superius I approached, trailing at least two of his wives and a half a dozen clones in various costumes.

“What is it with this guy?” Murray looked back to find Zora missing. She’d, no doubt, crawled into the nearest shrub to hide. “Damn it, Zor.”

“Doctor Livingston!” The Emperor called out to her, spooking the smaller, lemon-yellow slug. It bolted for the nearest copse of bushes, and to Murray’s delight, evoked a flurry of cussing from the shrubbery as it disappeared into the same cover her sister had chosen.

She turned to the Emperor, flashed a grin and waved. “Hello!”

“Doctor Livingston, hello!” The whole group stopped and clustered about twelve feet away from the giant pink slug. “How are our big friends this morning?”

“I should suspect, tired.” Murray shrugged. “Joe’s team has found seven egg clusters already.”

“Is your sister around?”

“Hmmm?”

“I thought, perhaps, the lovely Zora might be out here with you. You haven’t seen her?”She shook her head and watched the Emperor deflate. His poor, ordinary shoulders slumped and he nodded. “Well, that’s too bad.”

“I’m sure she’s around.”

“Yes, well, I‘m sure we’ll run into each other eventually.”

Murray felt a stab of pity for him. The guy just didn’t get how outmatched he was on that front. “I had good news this morning.” She changed the subject before his disappointment could move her to rat out her sister. “The ISPCA has located several planets suitable for Slug repopulation.”

“And willing?” He’d developed quite the interest in the species’ survival.

“It seems so. I’m sure the organization pulled out a few of its more useful persuasions, but they’ll only consider governments that pass protective measures.”

“Good. And we’ll have a population here as well?”

“Unofficially.”

“Thank you. If my people were discovered--.”

“I only told them that we had eggs, nothing about the breeding pair.”

“I appreciate that.” His eyes, and his whole manner, turned stoic. When it came to his people’s welfare, Ignatius didn’t muck about. Murray admired the hell out of him for it.

“I’ll tell Zor you’re looking for her.”

He smiled back and nodded, then stepped right up to Neela and gave her a sticky pat. If he seemed to glance pointedly at the bushes, Murray might have imagined it. She waited while the entourage departed, watched until the Emperor had re-activated the force field and disappeared from view before commenting.

“You slept with him, didn’t you?”

The bushes rattled fiercely in answer. Murray turned and watched Zora brushing the leaves from her hair and clothing. She waited. When Zora met her gaze, Murray gave her the old eyebrow arch.

“What?”

“You said you didn’t.”

“I said I didn’t sleep with him to get the ship. I didn’t. I traded my nanites for the ship.”

“But you did sleep with him.”

Zora examined her feet and said nothing.

“Is he the father?” Murray watched Zora’s shoulders come up. An expression flirted across her face, squinting, vacillating. “You don’t know? Jeeze, Zor!”

“Well, it’s complicated.”

“I can imagine.”

They both took a deep breath and stared at one another. Zora cracked a sideways grin and Murray couldn’t help but return it.

“You know me.” Zor shrugged again.

“Yeah. I do.”

“So. What about you? When’s your boyfriend get out of the shop?”

Murray sighed and tried to ignore the terrified knot in her stomach. “They said any time today or tomorrow depending on how quickly he adapts to the new matrix.”

“Probably today, then.”

“Why?”

“Because I think he’s in a hurry.” Zora grinned and pointed a dagger nail back towards the gate. “And, also, there’s a funky-looking Bob heading this way.”

The knot swelled into a wave of panic. Murray’s knees turned as gelatinous as Neela, minus the goo factor. She felt sick and dizzy and considered, just for a second, bolting for the shrubbery.

“Wow. You just turned all sorts of green.” Zora put her hands on her hips and tapped one heeled foot against the sticky grass. “Are you scared?”

“No.” Murray groaned and bent over. “How close is he?”

“About half-way. Maybe it’s not even him. No, wait. That has to be him. Did you pick that?”

“Shut up.”

“I bet you did.”

She stood and glowered at her sister. If Zora hadn’t been pregnant, she’d have smacked her a good one. It must have showed. Zora took a big step backwards.

“Maybe I’ll go check on Teepo.” She knew she was out of range, or she wouldn’t have grinned quite like that. She wouldn’t have spun in so cocky a fashion before she headed back into the bushes.

Murray held her breath. She listened and counted seconds until the crunch of feet against grass sent another spasm of nerves flaring. What if it wasn’t him? What if it was? How the hell would she be certain? They should have asked Ignatius how many of that particular model might be strolling around—strolling pointedly through the exact garden where she waited. Damn it. The footsteps stopped crunching.

“Murray?” It was Bob’s voice. Had she expected different?

She turned around, didn’t quite lift her eyes--a pair of black trousers, boots against a sparkling green background. “Hmmm?”

“Doctor Murray.” The inflection almost seemed familiar.

She dragged her gaze to the white shirt, filmy and open at the front. An image of Zander flashed through her mind. Damn. Her knees quavered again. Had he worn that on purpose? He didn’t speak again, just waited for her to face him. She wasn’t sure she could do it.

The moment stretched. Her throat dried out, threatened to close. She felt asinine, standing there not looking at him. What if it was just another Bob? The idea, the embarrassment, forced her to look.

All her doubt swept aside in an instant. He didn’t even look like a Bob. “Rook.”

The nervous smile was new, but she’d seen the look smoldering in his eyes more than once. It might have been Bob’s face, but somehow Rook owned it. His cybernetic eyes glinted silver, and the chrome hair finished the trick. She knew him. She knew exactly who he was.

“What do you think?” He swept his hands out and executed a tentative half turn. His head tilted to one side. Murray heard the deeper question.

“I love you,” she said.

His head snapped up, and his eyes flashed.

“What do you think, Rook? How’s humanity?” Her voice faltered, emotions threatening to fracture her control.

“It’s scary.” He spoke softly, but he took a step closer. “I feel everything. My clothes, the air, every movement, it’s all--new.”

She could imagine. A central nervous system would be one hell of an adjustment. The constant sensory messages alone would--. He grabbed her, lightening fast and without warning. His arms came around her waist and she let out a tiny, terribly cliché, “eek.”

Her body recovered fast enough. He pressed her closer and leaned into her neck, breathed across her skin and sent her arms grabbing for his shirt, neck, any part of him. He whispered, “I love you,” and they were kissing—free, unfettered and unhurried kissing.

She pulled away, laughed softly at the look on his face, Rook’s expression, unmistakable. “What? What is it?”

“It’s so fast.” He shook his head. “The sensations register too quickly to process a suitable reaction.”

“I love it when you talk android.”

“I’m serious.” He frowned, and the spot between his eyes crinkled. She’d never noticed that on Bob either. “What if I make an incorrect movement?”

Murray sighed and ran a finger along his jaw. The small muscle there contracted, tensed in an involuntary reflex. Behind him, the Emperor’s city sparkled in the sunlight. Behind her, a giant slug nibbled at the foliage where her sister hid, possibly carrying the Emperor’s illegitimate child. He was worried about making a mistake. She felt a bubble of hysteria, pushed it firmly aside and kissed him instead.

“Oh Rook.” She tucked her head under his chin and felt his arms lock around her. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Episode Forty: Body Shop

2010-10-24T09:44:00.000-07:00

Two giant slugs undulated beneath the amber dome. Their bodies rippled neon pink and yellow. Their antennae waved and twisted together, and the sticky swath they trailed across the grass glinted in the sunlight filtering through the barrier overhead. Slug sex, under glass.

Murray leaned an elbow against the balcony railing and smiled down at the scene. Her other arm curled protectively around a small, portable computer.

“You’re holding that thing like it’s a teddy bear.” Zora’s clipping footsteps echoed her words. She sauntered up to the rail and nodded at the hand-held.

From its speaker, Rook’s new voice answered, “I find the term ‘that thing’ highly offensive.”

“How about teddy bear?” Zora leaned her hip against the railing and made a suggestive face. Thankfully, Rook’s new body didn’t come with eyes.

“That one, I can live with,” he answered.

Murray hugged him closer and stuck her tongue out at Zora. They’d only been on the planet for two days, and she already felt relaxed, almost stress-free. Something about the champagne light, she figured. That and the luxury the Emperor’s clone devotees provided. He’d assigned at least four attendants to her alone.

“How is your slug?” She waved an arm out at the garden Ignatius designated a Space Slug preserve. “Aside from the obvious, that is.”

“I know!” Zora rolled her eyes and grinned. “They’ve found three nests already. They’re worse than--.”

“You?” Rook’s electronic voice didn’t convey humor as well as his android one, but the point hit its mark.

“Ha ha.” Zora glared at her, as if she’d done it. “Hurry up and get your boyfriend a new body so I can punch it in the face.”

“We’re working on that.” They’d been browsing clone catalogs for two days, in fact. The Emperor’s bio-engineers could do wonders with aesthetic options. So far, Rook hadn’t found one he felt would be just right. “Ignatius is giving us a tour of the cloning facility today.”

Murray didn’t miss her sister’s flinch at the mention of the Emperor.

“Good.” Zora sniffed and turned back to the view and her enamored mollusks. “It’s creepy watching you lug him around with you.”

She let it go. Zora’s weird behavior in reference to Ignatius had resurfaced the second they landed. Of course, she was also pregnant, and allowed to be a little bit off center. Either way, Murray figured things would sort themselves out. The Emperor had certainly afforded them a warm enough welcome. Besides, she had her hands full helping Rook decide on a permanent home. She’d sit Zora down for a good talk once they’d settled their own little dilemma.

“We should go now,” she said. “It’s almost time.”

“Whatever.” Zora continued to stare at the far shimmer of dome. “Good luck.”

#

“They all look the same.” Rook’s voice answered yet another scan with a negative. “They all look like Bob.”

“They’re clones.” Murray lowered the hand-held and shrugged apologetically at Ignatius. “The hair is different. And there’s the tattoo.”

“I’d feel like you were with Bob.”

She turned to Ignatius, who did a decent job of not looking embarrassed. “Can we have a minute alone?”

“Of course.” He didn’t manage to mask his relief, however.

Murray waited for him to step outside, taking the usual clone escort with him. When they were alone aside from the row upon row of suspended clone bodies, she tried her best to reassure him. “It will be you, Rook. It doesn’t matter what body you pick.”

“Even if it’s an android body?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.” Leer had offered, now that his position as Chairman had been ratified and Rook’s pardon was official. “We can wait for a Damascan body, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t.”

The green glow emanated from the suspension tubes. It cast the room into an eerie light, punctuated by the soft bubbling of distant liquid. Murray stared at the nearest Bob and shook her head. She couldn’t imagine it as Rook. It just didn’t seem right. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea?

“Do you?” The hand-held brattled and she barely caught the question.

“Do I what?”

“Prefer an android body.”

Murray rolled her eyes, grateful that the portable version of her boyfriend needed a scanner to see her. She turned away from Bob-in-a-tube and sought out the nearest curving desk. “I don’t.” His insecure side was something new to her. He’d managed to mask it fairly well while playing android. “I don’t care what body you have, Rook. It won’t make any difference. Metal, flesh, you could stay in the hand-held if you like, so long as we’re together.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t like they’d had much physical contact anyway.

“I think I prefer the humanoid solution.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’d like to finish that massage at some point.”

She smiled and sat down, tapping the controls and bringing up the catalog display. “We can look through the options again.”

“Are you blushing, Murray?”

“Now, how would you know that?”

“Your body temperature fluctuated.”

“Hmmm. Where did we leave off? Hair? Body ornament? Cybernetics?”

“Cybernetics perhaps?”

“A compromise?” She flicked her fingers over the buttons and the screen shifted to a menu. “Plug in?”

“Please.”

Murray aligned the hand-held port with an orifice on the desk. She slid the two together and felt the connection click into place. Rook did his best to moan electronically--a new joke, and one he hadn’t tired of yet. “Oh, stop it.” She still giggled.

“Sorry.”

“You want to drive?” He didn’t answer, but the screen shifted to a display of the first Bob in the sequence. The cybernetic modifications scrolled down the left side of the page. Rook beeped and the next Bob replaced the first. He beeped again and the clone modifications flickered, flew by as he rejected one after the other at a speed her eyes couldn’t hope to keep up with.

She leaned back in the chair and watched him shop. What would it be like to have him in a Bob costume? It would certainly take some getting used to, but the Bob’s weren’t exactly unattractive. It worried her, though she’d managed to keep it to herself. She wanted to believe it would still seem like Rook, still feel like him. So far, however, she agreed with his assessment. None of the options seemed to fit.

He’d slowed his scan to a rate she could almost follow. The Bob’s still passed in a blur, but she could make out the silver flicker of metal at various limb locations.

“How about this one?” He stopped on a particularly enhanced model.

“Uh. No. But I think we need to watch Ignatius a little more closely in the future.” Murray averted her gaze and chuckled. The Bob’s flickered again, one, two, four. “Wait!” She leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “Go back.”

Rook scanned back slowly. “That one?”

“What do you think?” She stared at the modified Bob. It just might work, if he liked it.

“I think it’s perfect, Murray. Subtle, but distinct. What about you?”

“I think it suits you. I love it.”

“Then we’d better get the Emperor back in here.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. The image on the screen did suit him. Subtle, but distinct. “Perfect.”

Next Episode

Episode Thirty-Nine: The Hand-held

2010-10-17T18:12:00.000-07:00

“Zora, what have you done?” Murray clung to the door frame and fought off the urge to vomit. She dragged her eyes across the carnage inside her sister’s room. The wad of bedcovers tossed in one corner left the cot’s mattress exposed, and the bare material lay under a small mountain of Earth Burger wrappers. She didn’t linger too long on the grease stains seeping from the mess. No wonder Zora had been sick.

The bed and sea of clutter, however, hadn’t set her stomach clenching. The sight of a familiar duffle bag had. The duffle bag and the glinting row of vials lined up on the floor beside it. Each one encased a pulsing blue sphere. Her fingers did their best to dig into the metal bulkhead. The floor tilted sharply under her quaking legs. “Did you steal them?”

“No.” Zora brushed past her and kicked aside a pile of clothing. “God, Mur.” She settled on the floor cross-legged and leaned back against her cot. Her hand slid into the crack under the bad and pulled out Murray’s hand-held. “Leer gave them to me. We needed the blanks for decoys when we pulled off the switch. Except, I kind of got them mixed up and now I can’t figure out which one’s which.”

“I knew you had my computer. Zora how could you---what? You did what?”

“It’s not my fault.” Zora’s bottom lip extended. “They all look the same, and everyone was pushing, and the freaking lights were out, Mur. I mean, who could expect me to keep them straight?” She shrugged and picked up one of the vials, held it up to the room’s overheads and peered in at the Damascan inside.

“Zora.” Murray’s throat closed on the word. Her stomach rolled and she felt her legs give out. She landed hard on one hip in the doorway and never took her gaze off the vials. “Zora!”

“What?”

“What switch?”

Zora looked away from the Damascan and blinked at her.

“You said you pulled off the switch?”

“Oh. Right. Well we only really needed a minute, you know. Just to get him away from the cameras long enough to swap for the blank Leer had programmed.”

“Programmed?” She felt her chest squeeze and pushed the patter of hope away. It wasn’t possible. But the row of vials held her attention, took her breath completely away.

“With Leer’s speech. Mur, they wouldn’t let me tell you. They said if it didn’t work, you know?”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Then I got them all mixed up and now I can’t remember which one is, is--.”

“Oh, God, Zora.” Murray crawled closer. The guilty look on her sister’s face barely registered through the fog around her. Six blue spheres registered. A seventh hovered like a brand in front of Zora’s face. “You mean one of these is Rook?”

The blurry face nodded. “I tried them all in here.” Zora flipped over the hand-held computer. The back compartment gaped open, and someone had modified the machine’s internal structure.

Murray guessed Leer had. Leer, who’d programmed a blank clone to deliver a speech he’d written, to play out the martyr’s role, to play Rook’s part so they could spare his life.

“But I may have gotten confused,” Zora continued. “I lined them all up, and I think I started from this end, but maybe I didn’t put them all in.”

“You mean it didn’t work?” The nausea washed back to the surface. Of course it hadn’t worked. Rook was dead, and this was impossible.

“I’m just not sure.” Zora hung her head. She set the vial back into the line. Seven spheres glowed against the steel flooring. “I’m sorry.”

“We have to be sure.” She had to be sure. Enough hope clawed at her heart. She couldn’t give up until she had no doubt left. “We’ll try them all again.”

Zora nodded and picked up a vial from the farthest end of the line. She pried up the lid and rolled the Damascan sphere into her palm. The glow didn’t change. The light didn’t even flicker when Zora rested the ball inside the hand-held.

Murray leaned forward. She couldn’t help it. She stared at the familiar image, a knot of blue surrounded by circuits and remembered that first touch, the tendrils of light snaking out into the back of Rook’s head, his initial words. Greetings…

Nothing happened. Zora shrugged as if the world didn’t depend on her actions and used her finger to pop the sphere back out of the computer. She set it back in line and picked up the vial beside it.

“It took awhile.” Murray scooted even closer. The floor tiles pressed a pattern into her hands. “When we found him, it took longer than that to see anything.”

“He was dormant.” Zora tossed out the answer as if she knew all about it, as if she’d always known. Leer again. “The vials keep them in stasis. Leer said it should only take a few seconds.”

“Maybe we should give it more time, just to be sure.”

Zora popped the second Damascan out of the hand-held and set it back in line. She reached for a third.

“That’s the one you just tried.” Murray frowned at the row.

“I just did this one.” Zora pointed to the end of the line.

“But you started with that one.”

“I started over there.”

“Yes, but you put it back there.”

They stared at each other. Murray could see the argument behind Zora’s tight lips. She waited, but Zora slumped forward in defeat. “See what I mean. It’s confusing.”

“Why don’t you just set the ones you’ve tried somewhere else?” Murray reached out to pick up the one she KNEW Zora had just removed, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to touch it. Her hand hovered over the row, and she closed her eyes willed away the building pressure. It should be freaking simple to keep track of seven little vials.

She felt the tingle before she heard Zora’s gasp. Her hand warmed on one side. Little jolts darted across her palm. She opened her eyes slowly.

The third sphere from the end had sprouted tendrils. They packed the inside of the vial, twisted and pressed against the clear sides. Murray felt them reaching. She moved her hand closer and they flared and undulated around their core. She let out a rush of breath and smiled. “Let’s try this one.”

“Uh. Right.” Zora passed her the hand-held.

Her hands trembled, but she managed to pop the vial open. The Damascan sphere crawled into her palm. The tingles shot past her elbow as the tendrils explored her hand. She nudged it into the compartment and they released her, winding about their task, connecting to the machine’s matrix and taking control of the little computer.

She knew it was him before the thing beeped. She’d known it the minute she touched the sphere. It didn’t make her heart dance any less when the unfamiliar, digital voice spoke her name.

“Murray?”

“Rook.” She pulled her hand-held onto her lap, leaned over it and shook.

“Greetings, Doctor Murray.”

Next Episode

Episode Thirty-Eight: Aftermath

2010-10-11T14:07:00.000-07:00

The drone of engines sang to her for days. Murray ignored them. She ignored the footsteps in the hall outside, and feigned sleep each time her sister wandered in to check on her, to leave food that she never ate or to try to coax her out of bed.

The hollow feeling in her chest refused to fade. The void in her stomach gargled in protest, but it was her bladder that eventually drove her to her feet. She’d drunk next to nothing, so the bodily intrusion seemed fairly unjust. Still, a persistent pressure assured her that her morning period, at least the horizontal portion, had come to an end.

Murray groaned and rolled to a seated position. The Slug One’s engines hummed, vibrating her narrow cot. She’d have guessed she’d slept at least four days, but she looked around for her hand-held to get a more definitive answer.

She couldn’t find it. Her pack rested on the floor beside her cot, but her computer failed to turn up inside it. She checked the slim storage locker, even looked for the device in the tangle of bed covers. She found no trace of it.

Zora. Murray felt a tickle of irritation, but it barely registered. She didn’t remember much of the rioting, couldn’t say how she’d found her way back to Bull’s nor give any details about their departure from Damascus, but she remembered telling Zora where her hand-held was. Zora must have fetched it.

Well, she needed the lav anyway. She could stop by Zora’s room, possibly find something to eat. Her stomach growled agreement. Life, it seemed, would continue despite her intentions. She eyed the door and took a shaky breath. Some life would continue.

She used the facilities, wandered toward the bridge and stopped short of entering. Not ready yet. That was one empty chair she didn’t feel like facing. No answer at Zora’s door, and a common area empty except for a mountain of Earth Burger wrappers and the scent of stale coffee. That left the cargo bay. She shuffled her way to the back of the ship.

She leaned around the slime trail and triggered the door, but when the big metal panel slid aside she couldn’t close it fast enough. She rested against the wall for a moment and tried to force that particular image from her mind.

She’d have to try the bridge. She retraced her steps, checked her sister’s room again on the way past. No one answered her knock. She could just go back to bed, but it seemed like a lot of wasted effort. If she took a step in that direction, a step backwards, it would only be harder to get up next time. Like it or not, there had to be a next time. She couldn’t hide in bed forever.

She stood outside the doors for longer than she’d ever admit. When she finally entered the room, she found it empty. The view screen showed a field of stars, and the console lighting cast a faint blue glow across the controls, the mesh flooring and the chairs.

Murray held her breath and crossed the space. She touched the back of the pilot’s seat, ran her hand along the padding. She exhaled and closed her eyes while her fingers pressed into the seat. The console beeped softly as the autopilot made subtle course corrections. She let the room and the tactile feel of the empty chair envelop her. She let the tears come again.

She sat in his chair. Her legs curled underneath her, and her head settled back against the neck rest. She watched the stars drift, checked the console and noted their course. Interesting.

The small computer panel mirrored the view screen. Murray tapped at the buttons and brought up the recent files. Damascan revolution. Galactic investigation of illegal trafficking. She sighed and stared at the headlines. The title, Damascan Saviors, marched above a picture of Leer and Zora standing triumphantly on the steps of the detention facility.

So Rook’s murder had backfired. The people rose to Leer’s cause, and the old government toppled like a paper tower. Maybe she should have cared. Rook might have approved, even felt proud of the fact. She clicked off the screen and closed her eyes again. It didn’t make him any less dead.

Murray heard Zora enter, but she didn’t turn. Footsteps clicked across the mesh, and the second chair creaked as her sister sat down. The autopilot beeped again.

“You’re out of bed.”

“Barely.”

“Mur, Im so--.”

“Don’t say it, Zor.” She didn’t want it. Sorry wouldn’t change anything either. “Your mollusks are mating.”

“Yeah. I saw. Wow, huh?”

Murray swiveled to face her, but she forgot all about slug sex when she saw her sister’s face.

“Why are you green, Zora?”

“I’ve been kind of sick.”

“You look like--.”

“I’m pregnant.”

The controls beeped a response. Murray stared at Zora’s pale, blotchy face. Her hair was un-brushed and her shirt looked like it had caught a little of the most recent sick.

“Oh my god.”

“I know.” Zora’s eyes teared up--impossible, genuine tears.

“There are ways to prevent that, Zor. You know?”

“I’m not stupid, Mur. They don’t always work. Different chemistries. I don’t know.” Zora practically sobbed the protest.

Murray’s universe had shattered. Her heart would probably never mend, but she found herself suppressing a persistent urge to giggle.

“It’s not funny, Mur.” Zora read her mind.

“I know. It’s just.” She imagined Zora raising a child—a sobering thought—but the image of her actually raising a child, changing diapers, wiping snot and doused in spit-up. The chuckle escaped. It bubbled into an all out laugh, swelled into wave after wave of hysteria.

“Bitch.” Zora said. She crossed her arms, but the trace of a grin brightened the dark shadows under her eyes.

“So.” Murray caught her breath and wiped the tears away. “Do we know who the father is, or will we have to wait and count its little limbs?”

“That’s not funny.”

“It actually is.” She let her humor settle, allowed a moment of laughter to promise at least some proof that life would, in fact, continue. No loss could stop it for long. “Hey, Zor.” She closed her eyes and leaned into the indentation where Rook’s body should have rested. “Have you seen my hand-held?”

Silence answered, and a seed of concern wriggled across her thoughts. If Zora had left it--what? She had very little anger remaining her, and no fight at all. Still, she peeked across at the guilty expression on her sister’s face and sighed.

“You left it behind?”

“No.”

“Then where is it?”

“Oh, Mur! It’s awful.”

“It usually is.”

“But I’m in real trouble.”

“You usually are.”

“And I really need your help.”

The universe had settled back to normal. It was too fast. She wasn’t ready for routine, for moving onward. She debated denying Zora, but the new emergency, whatever it was, would be something to do at least. She sat up and nodded, folded her hands in her lap and faced Zora’s tears—only half phony by her best guess. “Tell me, Zora. What is it this time?”

Next Episode

Episode Thirty-Seven: The Execution

2010-09-30T10:24:00.000-07:00

The images jumbled together. Murray stood in Bull’s apartment and stared at the wall screen. Her feet rooted to his slick, perfectly-shined floor tiles. On screen, smoke billowed from windows. Flames licked between straight columns. Chaos ran the streets.

Over the drone of screams and pounding feet, a flat female voice announced a play by play of the events unfolding. Murray watched it, life-sized, and tried to catch the words over the terror howling in her mind.

“Group of radical terrorists attempted to free their leader.”

It didn’t sound good. In particular the word “attempted” bothered her.

“Explosions and electrical sabotage.”

The scene shifted to the front steps of the detainment building. A haze of debris littered the street, the sidewalk and the surrounding areas. It still rained detritus around the on-site reporter who hunkered between columns and grinned for the cameras. “The fiendish rebels have been apprehended,” she said happily. “And the criminal has been returned to custody.”

They’d had him then, had him out at least for a moment. Murray closed her eyes and fought back a wave of hope, anger and bald-faced terror. Zora had said they didn’t want him dead, and she’d scoffed. She never guessed they’d have planned to rescue their martyr.

“Revolutionary and an off-world woman resisting arrest.”

Murray’s knees wobbled as Zora was dragged across the screen. Two Damascan officers held her by the arms, and she kicked and twisted between them. Her hair had come free, throwing a cloud of red tangles against the silver metal forearms. She howled and tossed her head from side to side.

The reporter closed in, followed by a camera man who stumbled and caused the view to slide off of Murray’s sister. She saw Leer in a similar situation, though he walked with a triumphant posture that made Murray grind her teeth together. She heard him talking to the crowd, spreading his message from his new power position as victim of the system. Murray knew the drill.

“The corruption and injustice has to end, now!” One of his handlers shook him less than gently. “We are prisoners. We’re all prisoners.”

“They’re using you.” Zora’s voice joined Leer’s. The camera man recovered. He swung back around to her. “They’re selling your bodies to the highest bidder.”

The camera jerked to the side, and Murray saw a glimpse of the crowd. She heard the announcer scream and the camera man’s grunt as the mob surged forward. The angle tilted and showed a press of legs before it settled on the ground. The scene cut to a studio reporter, a man who wore a wide, stiff smile.

“We’re experiencing technical difficulties,” he said. “Our crews on the ground assure us that the situation is well in order. In the meantime, reports just in that the Council has ordered the immediate execution of the treaty violator.”

“What?” Murray spun around. “Bull? What did he say?”

“Public example,” the reporter continued. “To be broadcast live--.”

“Bull!”

Rook’s lawyer stared at her. He didn’t so much as twitch, may as well have been off line, empty. For a second, she’ feared he died, or whatever the Damascan equivalent. She pushed it to the bottom of her pile of fears and pushed on the front of Bull’s chest.

He blinked and turned away from the screen. “Did they say execution?”

“Yes!”

“But we haven’t had the trial.” He shook his head and looked to her. As if she might have the answer to his quandary, as if she could even think at the moment. “The Council doesn’t have legal standing to forego a trial.”

“They’re panicking. Or they’re covering their asses. I don’t care which, Bull. Just do something!”

He blinked twice, and Murray held her breath. There would be something, some lawyer thing that he could do. Behind her, the reporter’s voice shifted and adopted a trace of panic.

“The rioting seems to have escalated. Suspects enticing the crowd to violence.”

“Bull!”

“I’ll call,” he said. “I’m sure it’s a mistaken report.”

He left her. Murray watched him disappear behind his study door and then she turned back to the wall where a scrolling message informed her that everything was under control. Above it, the cameras shifted to a distant view of the detention block as seen from above. Smoke blocked most of the view.

Silence enveloped her. The reporter had stopped speaking or the system cut out. Either way, the images flowed by without sound. Her insides churned. Bull said it was a mistake. Bull knew more about his planetary government than she did.

Except the scrolling letters disagreed. They spelled out her horror: TREATY VIOLATOR TO BE EXECUTED LIVE. Murray closed her eyes, and the sound kicked in. She heard muffled shouting. It took her less than a breath to realize it came from the study. Bull’s voice. Shouting.

She ran from the apartment. The lift carried her to street level where the side of every building scrolled the same impossible message. Her tears blurred the words. Her chest pinched. She ran anyway, ran past the columns, past pedestrians who looked too much like Rook, who could never come close. They stood like statues in her peripheral vision, statues that could almost be him.

She ignored them, ignored everything, and ran for the center of town.

The barricades didn’t stop her. The revolution had already bled across them, crushed a few of the structures and left the remainders unmanned. The crowd only slowed her. She wove between them all, didn’t pause to distinguish police from protestor. She ran through and around. She jumped and dodged.

She ran until she heard Rook’s voice. It descended, echoed from every building, and she froze. Her legs turned leaden. She pressed her eyes shut and refused to look. The trick didn’t work on her ears. She heard the speech—his message to the people—the farewell message.

It was beautiful. The crowd around her paused and listened to him. His planet hung on every word. Murray let the tears leak around her lids and refused to watch.

It couldn’t happen like this, distant, broadcast. They deserved a goodbye, a last minute “I love you” at least. Instead she stood alone, surrounded by Damascan strangers who roared in response to Rook’s words, who surged to his message, but didn’t love him enough to stop his death. Murray shook her head. It wouldn’t happen like this. Love stories didn’t end like this.

But as Rook’s voice droned on, sounding like an android for the first time since she’d met him, she heard the collective gasp and had to open her eyes. They had him on his knees. The bastards had him on his knees. Two armed guards stood like bookends beside him. Rook stared forward and kept talking. He continued, focused on the cameras and speaking his message, while the third man opened the back of his head.

Her stomach clenched. She could see what they saw, though she’d only looked inside him once. She remembered. A blue marble glowed and extended tendrils of light into the brain. She’d even touched it, him, once.

She saw the rod in the guard’s hand, the arch of electricity dancing at its tip, and she snapped. The spell lifted. She searched the crowd for a break, for last minute help, for a miracle. All eyes riveted on the big screens.

“Stop this!” Murray screamed, hardly recognized her own frantic voice. “He hasn’t had a trial!”

A few Damascans, the ones closest to her, glanced in her direction.

“They haven’t given him a trial!” She tried louder. A few more noticed. A whisper spread through the crowd.

It died quickly in the shriek of electricity snapping. The crowd gasped, a sound like a tidal wave that washed through the city, washed over Murray’s screams and buried her protest under a sea of disbelief. Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart paused. She stared at the ground. Her knees buckled and kissed the pavement. She saw the flash of legs around her, heard the sudden thunder of a thousand angry voices.

None of them could cover the sound of a metal body falling forward, hitting the tiles, crashing, lifeless, to the cell floor. Even her own screams didn’t drown that out.

Next Episode

Episode Thirty-Six: Jail Break

2010-09-26T17:00:00.000-07:00

“I’m sorry.” The secretary managed to translate snide and derisive into her stiff, metal expression. “Only one visitor at a time.”

“Well, who’s in there?” Murray scowled across the desk at her nemesis. She’d clashed with the woman like a Centarian Cymbal in heavy gravity.

“I’m not authorized to give that information to just anyone.” The secretary dragged her eyes from Murray’s toes, thrust into a pair of dingy slip-ons, to the hair escaping from her half hazard bun and smiled. “You seem to be in a hurry, or I’d suggest you could wait and see for yourself.”

Murray brushed off a surge of insecurity and stood up tall. Visitors only got fifteen minutes. She could use the time to straighten up a bit. “I’ll be back.”

“I can’t wait.”

She swallowed a snarling response and spun around, nearly dislodging one of the flip-flops. With less grace than she’d hoped, she managed to exit and hobble toward the nearest ladies’ room where she discovered the Damascans rated mirrors somewhere around the level of food. Murray settled for squinting into a shiny stall door to fix her hair.

The toilet’s, she assumed, had been installed for guests. Necessities but no comforts, little luxury—the Damscan existence bordered on Spartan from an out-worlder standpoint. No wonder they wanted to leave, to live a little.

“I sound like Zora.” She snorted and tugged at a loose strand.

“Mur?” Zora’s voice whispered from one of the stalls. “Is that you?”

“Zora?”

“What are you doing here?” Zora emerged from the furthest stall. She wore a familiar black jumpsuit and had her hair pulled back tight. “You should go, Mur. Quick.”

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah. Come on.” Zora grabbed her elbow and tugged.

“What is going on? Zora, what are you up to?

“It’s best if you don’t know anything, Mur. Leer said—.”

“Oh god. Not Leer again.”

“Mur, I’m serious. You need to get out of here.” Zora let go of her arm and tapped at her right ear. A tiny wire wrapped around her earring and disappeared into her hair. “Mm Hm. Yeah. Hang on a sec.” She turned an overly wide grin on Murray. “Now would be good.”

“Listen, Zora. I don’t know what you’re doing, but those guys you’re messed up with are criminals.”

“No!” Zora turned away and grabbed her ear. “Not you, now. Murray now. Shit.”

“I think they messed with my hand-held too. Did you let anyone into my room?”

Zora pushed her toward the door. She stumbled under the sudden assault and grabbed for the handle, barely wrenching her way into the hall before she was shoved again. “Get out of the building, Mur.”

“Don’t do this, Zora. Whatever this is. Those guys--.”

“They didn’t touch your hand-held, Mur. Okay?”

“It’s glitchy.”

“Okay, Mur. I’ll see what I can do. Where is it?”

“I left it at Bull’s.”

“Will you get out if I promise to fix it?”

“They did mess with it, didn’t they?”

“Mur.”

“Fine. I want it back to normal, Zora.”

“Fine. Just promise me you’re leaving.”

“Come with me.” Murray put her hands on her hips. “Zora, what if you get in trouble? What if you go to jail too? What are you doing?”

“I’m tasing you, Mur.” Zora shrugged and poked her. A flare of pain arched up her side. She heard Zora’s whispered, “sorry” before the world blacked out.

*

“Hey, Lady.”

Murray heard sirens. They throbbed against her temples and blurred out the gravely voice.

“Lady, this is your stop.”

She blinked, and her head stopped spinning. Her right side ached from shoulder to knee, and all she could see was yellow. The color, the particular shade and the little rusty scratches seemed all too familiar. “Am I in a cab?”

“Good. You’re alive.” A bumpy, glistening toad head slid across her vision. “Your stop, Lady, and you owe me for the fare.”

“What?” Zora hadn’t paid him. Murray groaned and sat up. She’d dumped her in a cab and hadn’t even paid the driver. “How much?” As her thoughts clarified, it occurred to her that her sister had also assaulted her. She’d shocked her and stuffed her, unconscious, into a cab. “Where are we?”

“3541 Bangle Street.” The toad lipped.

“Bull’s place.” Murray sighed and gave the driver her ID. She authorized the credits and waited while he thumbed the door controls. “The woman that flagged you down.” She slid her legs out onto firm ground and felt the hover cab bob softly. “Did she say anything else?”

The toad hesitated. He rolled his bulging eyes and pretended to have forgotten.

“I’ll double your fare.” Murray watched his memory return in a rush.

“She said to bring you here, but to take the long way round.”

“How long?”

“It’s been close to an hour.”

“Damn it!” Murray rubbed her temples and waited for the cabbie to extract the rest of his fee. Her head hurt, but the sirens had faded into the distance. She looked up. She really could hear sirens. “What’s that? Do you hear that?”

The cabbie handed off her ID and shrugged again. “Something going on up town. Explosion. Marbles rioting in the streets.”

She stepped out of the cab and stared down the street. A line of columns marched in orderly fashion in front of the buildings. Bull lived in a high rise in the middle of taller high rises. She couldn’t see a damn thing. “Can you take me downtown?” She leaned down and tapped on the door panel, but it had closed up tight. “Hello?”

“Doctor Murray?”

She spun around, forgot for a moment and let her imagination get the upper hand. Her pulse reved to full tilt before she grappled it back under control. She smiled tightly at the android. “Bull.”

“Thank god you’re all right. I feared you’d been caught in the mess.”

“What happened, Bull?”

He stared at her, his metal face expressionless. His chest pinged and she dug her nails into her palms.

“You haven’t heard anything?” he asked. “The news?”

“Nothing.”

“Come inside.” The wide back turned on her. He stepped toward the building before glancing over his shoulder. Murray’s heart sunk. That posture, his expression said nothing but defeat. “You’d better see this for yourself.”

Next Episode

Episode Thirty-Five: Revolutionaries

2010-09-24T07:06:00.000-07:00

“Who goes there?” A voice accosted her from the shadows.

“Excuse me?” Murray stared at the ship’s ramp, squinted to make out the idiot shouting at her. “This is my ship.”

“What?”

“My ship. Want me to spell it?” She took a step to the side and tried to catch him in the angle of light slanting from the ship’s interior. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh.” The sound of heavy feet against the ramp rattled through the landing bay. Murray heard the mystery guard whisper. “Watchdog to Big Red, come in.”

“It’s Red One.” Zora’s snarky tone answered back. “Red One, not Big Red.”

“Somebody’s out here.” Watchdog leaned down and peeked at Murray. She caught a flash of shiny cranium, the curve of a metal shoulder. “She says it’s her ship.”

“Does she look like a geek?”

Murray ground her teeth together and stepped up the ramp. She’d spent the last fourteen hours pouring over Damascan legal records with a less-than-enthusiastic Bull. Her brain hurt, her back hurt and she needed coffee more than air. If he intended to shoot her, she’d let him. “Tell her it’s me, and I need coffee,” she snarled and advanced on the startled Damascan.

At least he didn’t share Rook’s body model. One idiot twin to her incarcerated boyfriend was all she could take in a day, and the damned lawyer had already fulfilled her quota. This, Watchdog, jackass had picked out a skinny, lanky frame with a bronze finish. He wore loose pants and a vest over his bare torso. Murray growled at him and kept moving forward. He didn’t look dangerous. He looked like a metal hippy.

“Halt,” he whispered.

Murray ignored him, but winced when his metal chest pinged softly. She stopped and stared at him. “Tell her it’s Murray, and the coffee had better be hot.”

“It’s Murray and--.”

“Just let her in.” Zora had apparently monitored the exchange. She met Murray at the top of the ramp. “You look awful, Mur.”

“What’s new?” Murray snatched the mug of coffee out of Zora’s hand and slammed it like a shot of Martian tequila. “Thanks. Is there more?”

“Technically, it’s my ship.” Zora smiled and spun on a heel. “The coffee’s in the common area, Mur, and be nice, okay?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Zora failed to elaborate, and Murray followed her swinging hips down the hall. “How are the mollusks?” She glanced at the ooze accumulating near the cargo bay as they passed it.
“Everything okay in there?”

“I think they’re getting used to each other.” Zora stopped short of opening the commons door. “Listen, Mur. I’ve got company, and we’re kind of busy. I can get you some coffee, but I’m not sure you should stick around.”

Murray stared at her. She might have argued, might have tore Zora a new one, accused her of abandonment, of kicking her when she was down. All of the above took too much energy. “I just need to grab my hand-held and get back to Bull.” She sagged and leaned against the bulkhead. “And I’d like some coffee before I have to go back.”

Zora stared at her a moment longer, as if she were calculating something, as if she could. Then she nodded and turned to the door. Instead of opening it, she rapped out a ridiculous series of long and short taps against the panel. A staccato of three sharp knocks answered before she reached down and pressed the controls to open the door.

“You have to be kidding.”

“Nice, Mur.”

“Fine.” Murray shook her head, but kept her mouth shut. The aroma wafting from the room helped with the effort. She followed Zora in and then sidestepped toward the counter and the sizzle of liquid stimulus.

She ignored the four Damascans huddled around the tiny table. She tuned out the whispering and refilled her mug from the dispenser. Fourteen hours with Bull, and nothing but water to drink—Damascan culture might be rich in technology, but they sucked when it came to things like sustenance.

By the time she’d drained two more cups, her attitude managed to lift a touch. She needed a cookie, but she felt much better. She turned to the group in the room’s center. Zora leaned over one of the men’s shoulder. All five of them focused completely on whatever they had on the table. A stack of assorted duffle bags parked around the table’s base.

“So,” Murray slid over. “You guys don’t really eat at all, then? I mean, not even for fun.” She tried to peek, even stood on tiptoe, but the Damascans made a gleaming wall around the surface. “What’cha doing?”

The guy Zora leaned against stood up and twisted, using his mass in an attempt to block the table from view. Zora stumbled away, and the other three closed ranks over the tabletop. The whole maneuver might have worked if Zora’s foot hadn’t snagged in the strap of one of the bags. She stumbled, threw her arms wide and sprawled forward. Two of the seated Damascans jumped to help her, leaving the only woman to cover their secret. She spread her metal arms and lay across the table.

Even so, Murray didn’t see what they hid. Her eyes fixed on the contents of the duffel bag, now spilling across the common room tiles. A surge of terror wrapped cold fingers around her spine. “Who are they?” She pointed an accusing finger at the glowing, blue spheres.

“Nobody.” Zora had survived the crash. She sat on the floor with her legs stretched to one side and tossed her hair back as if she’d meant to end up in exactly that pose. “They’re nobody.”

“Blanks,” One of the Damascans answered from the table. “Cloned blanks. Lobotomized.”

“That's disgusting.” Murray watched one of the glass vials roll to a stop against the far wall. Each tube contained one pulsing blue Damascan. “Zora, what are you doing?”

“She’s not authorized,” The Damascan at the table warned. He still stood in the same position, but his fellows had re constructed their living barricade. “Secrecy is vital to our success.”

“Excuse me?” Murray took a step in his direction.

“Mur.” Zora jumped to her feet. She grabbed Murray’s arm in a grip that pinched. “Come on. I’ll help you find your hand-held.”

“It’s in my room.”

“Good. Then we can find it in your room.”

She let Zora lead her. When the door shut out the revolutionaries, she turned to her sister and waited for the mother of all explanations. She crossed her arms and waited. She tapped her foot.

“I can’t, Mur.”

Murray raised her eyebrow. It always freaked Zora out.

“Cut it out, Mur. I can’t. Really.”

“What would the authorities do if they knew about those clones?”

“Damn it.” Zora eyed the door and nodded down the hall. When they reached Murray’s room, she caved. “Listen, it’s the authorities that are doing the cloning, okay? Leer thinks they’re trying to sell the blanks. Do you get that, Mur. Do you understand what that would mean?”

“No. And I don’t care to.” Unfortunately, she could calculate. She imagined quite suddenly what a non-Damascan might want with a lobotomized clone. “You mean they could--.”

“Yeah. For enough money, you could buy immortality.”

“But how would you? How would it?”

“The blank imprints on the first host. It doesn’t have a personality of its own, so the host becomes the dominant individual. After that, well, you can imagine, right?”

“How did these blanks end up on our ship?”

“The movement had an agent in the laboratory that developed them. He smuggled out a few as evidence.”

“The movement? Evidence? Listen to you.”

“It’s the whole government, Mur. It’s the big-wigs who’ve been buying these things. This isn’t just about getting off the planet. It’s about an inter-galactic conspiracy.”

“It’s about Rook, Zora. That’s all it’s about as far as I’m concerned.”

“You don’t get it. That’s why they don’t want any Damascans leaving. Rook supports the movement, Mur.”

“He also plans to die, remember? Your friends want him dead.”

“No, they don’t. Not really, Mur.”

She stared at Zora. Whatever this Leer had told her had done its damage. Her sister had the wild-eyed, fired up aura that only looked good on the young and impetuous. Mur understood it. She’d had it once or twice.

“No, Zora. Please. Not now. Let this thing go and help me save Rook, okay. I need you. Me. No movement, no Leer, just this once, okay?”

The fire only dimmed for a second. Then Zora shook her head and the spark returned. “We’re trying to save him, Mur. I promise.”

“Sure you are.” Murray had no illusions where Leer and his “movement” were concerned. As for Zora, she hadn’t really hoped for anything more. “I’ll just grab my stuff and get out of your hair.”

“You gonna be all right, Mur?”

She pressed the door panel and watched the flat metal slide aside. She had expected Rook to help. His lack of self-interest was the real problem. She didn’t have a clue how to counter that, and try as she might to convince him, he’d set his mind on playing the martyr for Leer’s movement.

She stepped into the room and turned in time to catch the guilt on Zora’s face. “Don’t worry about it, Zor.” As the door closed between them she sighed. It was Rook she’d hoped would fight beside her. Right now, she’d settle for convincing him to fight at all.

Next Episode

Episode Thirty-Four: The Kiss

2010-09-12T20:48:00.000-07:00

“They’re really serious.” Zora knelt on the bench and peeked through the slat blinds at the scene in the street. “I mean—really serious.”

Bull snorted and refused to look. He leaned against the counter where a secretary had, moments before, taken their names and vanished through a sliding security panel. Murray paced in front of him, stealing nervous peeks at the panel with each pass. She’d had about enough Bull for one day.

She stalked across the room and joined Zora at the window.

“It shouldn’t be long, now.” Bull shifted his tie and stared at the place they’d last seen the secretary. “Protocol, you know.”

“More like bureaucracy.” Murray doubted her nerves could handle much more of either. Her blood pressure had reached critical mass.

Before she could explode, the panel slid aside again. The secretary addressed Bull, handing him a familiar device and glancing over his shoulder at Murray.

“No physical contact whatsoever.”

The female Damascans wore bodies to indicate their difference. Murray didn’t know if it was by choice, or a product of dealing with the IRC designers, but the humanoid housings were built to accommodate two genders. The secretary had a slightly golden tint and curved where Bull and Rook angled.

Bull muttered something in response before turning back to them. He waved Rook’s remote control toward the panel and nodded for Murray to join him. “Only one visitor at a time, I’m afraid. Aside from counsel.”

“No worries.” Zora tore her gaze from the window long enough to wave them on. “I’ll wait here.”

Murray followed Bull through the security panel. She didn’t miss the micro-scanners that subtly frisked them as they passed or the superior expression on the secretary’s face when she thought they were out of sight. She ground her teeth together and ignored both.

The second scan was overt. The short hall ended in a guard station, and a series of large infrared eyes that combed over every inch of her. When they passed, another panel opened, and Bull led her into a perpendicular hallway lined with numbered doors.

When they stopped outside of one, her pulse stuttered. She had no idea what type of reception waited for her, hadn’t had time to decide exactly what she intended to say. Was she angry or just terrified? The door slid away and Bull led her inside.

She never saw the room. A table and two chairs sat in the center. She focused on the man waiting there, slid into the empty seat and stared across at him. He wore a gray jumpsuit and the same body the majority of his people wore. Yet Murray didn’t doubt his identity for a second.

“Doctor Murray.” He folded his hands together on the table and stared down at them.

Murray reached out on reflex. Her hand hovered over the table when Bull cleared his throat in warning. She let it drop inches from a silver finger.

“I’m not to allow any contact.” Bull did a decent job of sounding apologetic.

“Why didn’t you stay on the ship?” She frowned at their hands. Her brain couldn’t think of anything else to say. She sounded pathetic, desperate and she knew it.

“It was worth it.”

“No it wasn’t.” Her anger surged in to uncork her tongue. “It wasn’t at all. It might have been, if you’d told me—if you’d said anything—if.”

“If you’d known I wasn’t an android?”

Their eyes lifted at the same time. Murray inhaled and held his gaze. What would have happened, if she’d known then? If she’d known from the beginning?

“Maybe. Yes. It definitely would have helped.”

“My kind are not well thought of.” His finger twitched toward her hand, stopped just short of touching. “When we first met, I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t turn me in. Then I decided to explain and--.”

“And I never gave you a chance.” Murray sighed. They’d made quite a mess of things.

“I had plenty of chances. I could have found time.”

Murray slid her hand over his and held her breath. Rook’s chest pinged softly, and his hands turned over, his fingers wove between hers. Either Bull didn’t notice, or he pretended not to, Murray didn’t care to guess which.

“We both screwed up.” She shook her head. “Now we just need to sort out how to fix it.”

“I broke the treaty intentionally.”

“I was hoping you’d been kidnapped.”

“Bull told me.” His thumb brushed across her palm, and his fingers slipped along hers in a secret caress. “I don’t believe in the treaty. I think we should be free to come and go, to see the whole universe of things we’re missing out on just because the rest of the galaxy fears our differences.”

“I agree.” Murray traced his fingers with her own and sighed. Their hands danced together, sending little sparks through her nervous system. “I don’t think it’s right to keep your people hostage on their home world.”

“Good. I’m glad you agree.” The hum in his chest pitched a fraction higher. “I’d hate to die for a cause the woman I love didn’t believe in.”

“I don’t know which part of that sentence to deal with first.” Her hands trembled, and she felt pressure building behind her eyes. “I love you.”

“They’re going to execute me, Murray.”

She shook her head. He loved her, fine. He called her by name, finally. He had no intention of defending himself. He meant to die.

“Well,” She took a deep breath. “I have a real problem with that.”

His hand tightened. She heard his chest ping and leaned forward to meet him. His free arm reached for her, tried to pull her into the embrace, but it froze a good six inches from her shoulder. His whole body froze. The gaze still burned, and Murray stared into it.

“Really, Bull?” She tried not to snarl.

“I’m sorry. They monitor the room.” He stepped around the table and placed a hand on Rook’s back. “I am sorry.”

“Sorry?” Murray laughed. “If you’re sorry, then defend him.” She lunged forward and pressed her lips against Rook’s. It wasn’t a proper kiss, and he couldn’t return it. But his chest pinged, and her resolve flared.

“I can’t allow--.”

She sat back and waved Bull to silence. “I don’t care. Not about the stupid rules and not about the treaty or the cause or the stupid activists. I’m not allowing either one of you to give up.”

“We have no case.” Bull argued.

Murray stood up. She turned on the lawyer and brought out her best no-nonsense, all business, attitude. “Well,” She set her shoulders and stared him down. “Then I suppose you and I had better get to work.”

Next Episode

Episode Thirty-Three: The Lawyer

2010-09-01T12:51:00.000-07:00

Bull met them at the spaceport. He gave them his full name somewhere between the ship and his hover car, but Murray couldn’t remember any of it. Her mind focused entirely on the words, “death sentence.”

Zora stared out the vehicle’s window. “You’re sure no body’s ever done it before?”

The planetscape drifted past in a neat line--all of it a neat line. Sculpted trees grew in perfect rows on Damascus, and long colonnades lined either side of the streets. Even the river bisected the huge city straight down the middle, dividing Damas Prime into two equal halves.

Murray could see where Zora’s thinking headed, and she had to agree with her. A life sentence on Damascus, even if it were your home world, seemed almost as extreme as the penalty for leaving.

“No one has broken the Treaty since its inception,” Bull answered. He sounded excited, had landed an historic case. “Our people live by the treaty. You understand that our bodies are what allow us to live a truly free existence, one without the need to overtake and steal our livelihood from other beings.”

“I thought it was your conscience that did that.” Murray said. “I’m pretty sure it did in Rook’s case.”

“That’s good.” Bull pulled a small device from his pocket and spoke into it, “His conscience was enough. Note.”

“But, no one’s ever wanted to leave?” Zora still struggled to digest the fact. She looked back and forth between Bull and the window until Murray feared her neck would kink.

“It doesn’t matter.” Murray sighed. “What matters is how we get Rook off the hook.”

“Have you seen the river?” Bull asked. “I can have the driver circle around. You really should see it while you’re here.”

“We’ve seen it,” Zora snapped. “What’s to see? It’s a river.”

Murray watched the legal advocate through narrowed eyes. She could have sworn he twitched, saw something nervous in the posture of his silver, high-tech body. She imagined he’d be sweating if he had an organic host.

Behind him, she watched the city pass. She eyed the perfect lines and ground her teeth together. Despite Zora’s complaints, the river appeared again. Bull may have promised she could see Rook, but he was stalling them. The car looped around the city, and Rook’s lawyer pointedly avoided her questions.

“About the trial,” she started.

“That’s the cybernetics facility.” Bull pointed to one of the many skyscrapers. “Where our interfaces are developed.”

“Seen it.” Zora said.

“Bull.” Murray leaned forward across the seat and grabbed a handful of the man’s pressed shirt. Rook might have mentioned at some point that his people wore clothing. She shook her head and adopted her best no-nonsense tone. It came out a touch more frantic than she intended. “What are you doing about his defense? The trial? Finding some miraculous loophole that gets my friend NOT KILLED?”

“Of course.” A big silver hand gently extracted her grip. The angular head nodded. Somehow, despite a nearly identical body, Bull managed to look nothing like Rook. “If you don’t mind. The trial, yes. Well you see, that’s something of a problem.”

Of course it was. Murray tried to smile, but feared it translated into a snarl on delivery. “Why is that?”

“Because he insists on pleading guilty.”

“I know.” Murray closed her eyes. “They found him off planet, Bull. What else can he do?”

“Exactly.”

“But can’t we put a spin on it? Extenuating circumstances? Temporary insanity? Maybe he had a really great reason for leaving?”

“Yes!” Bull sat up straight. A tiny fire shimmered in his eyes for about half a second. Then he slumped back down and shrugged. “But he won’t have any of it.”

“What?”

“My client, your friend, insists on defying the treaty. He’s talking about reform, for heaven’s sake. And he’s talking to them.”

“Help me out here, Bull. Who’s them?”

“I’d better show you.” He tapped at the wall to the driver’s compartment, a signal to end the charade, Murray guessed. “He is very anxious to see you,” Bull added. “Shouldn’t be long.”

“Hmmm.”

The car took a left turn and slowed. Murray guessed they’d been less than two blocks from detention for close to an hour. She scowled at Bull and tried to pull her nerves back together. The vehicle crawled forward between the buildings. Her pulse stuttered.

What would she say to him? I’m sorry I thought you were a machine. I think I’m in love with you. Please don’t die. It didn’t quite roll off the tongue. Maybe she should go for indignation. How dare you let me think you were an android? How dare you keep these sorts of secrets? How dare you leave me? Pathetic.

The car stopped suddenly, and Zora pressed herself against the window, blocking Murray’s view completely. Bull sat up straight. He lifted his square business case from his lap and smiled the worst fake smile ever at her.

“We may have to negotiate a little bit of a crowd,” he said.

“Holy crap you’re not kidding.” Zora turned back to them. “There’s a mob out there!”

“Zealots,” Bull hissed. “Talking revolution and, I might add, NOT helping our case any.”

“Revolution?” Murray frowned and pushed Zora to one side. She sucked in her breath and put a hand up to the glass. “Aw, crap.”

People filled the street. They surrounded the car, crowded their metal bodies between columns, and jostled for position. Murray caught site of a few signs, scrolling bright-lettered slogans. She looked away. She’d seen protesters before. Hell, she’d stood among them on several occasions. It was no coincidence she had the ISPCA on her speed dial. She heaved a sigh and dropped her head forward, rested her chin in her palms.

“So,” she said. What do they want?”

“Only the end of the treaty. They want to leave, to run around the galaxy willy-nilly regardless of the repercussions for our society.” Bull pulled himself into an indignant posture and shook his head. “They want to defy our entire way of life.”

“You mean they want their freedom,” Zora said.

“Yes.” Bull sagged again, deflated. “Isn’t it ghastly?”

“What about Rook?” Murray stared at the nearest sign and knew the answer without being told. “What does this mean for Rook?”

The sign holder turned, and she read the message loud and clear. Big neon letters spelled it out in a perfect line: Freedom or Death.

Next Episode

Episode Thirty-Two: The Crime

2010-08-22T15:45:00.000-07:00

“He’s not an android.” She stared at the screen.

“I thought you might latch onto that part.” Zora’s voice didn’t say what she had to be thinking, what Murray herself was thinking.

Not an android. She watched the station’s docking clamps release the ship. How could he not be an android? The docking bay slid by while Zora nudged the controls, easing them past the last ring pilings and into a sweep of star field. The auto pilot could take over from there, would deliver them safely through the few jumps it took to reach Damascus.

“It doesn’t say much about their physiology.”

“Their what?” Zora spun the pilot’s chair, Rook’s chair, around to face her.

“Never mind, Zor. Maybe you should check on the mollusks?”

“Right.”

Murray waited for her to go. She stared out at the view until the sound of Zora’s heels faded. Then her fingers twitched, brought up the file she had waiting in the console data banks. She wasn’t in love with an android. Fine. If she’d latched on to that fact, it was primarily to distract herself from the more disturbing one. He was gone, already to Damascus by now, and then what?

She read the file again. The station’s records on the Damascans covered little of their biology. She’d filtered through the cultural slant, the obvious distaste, to learn what she could. She gathered what she’d originally taken for an artificial brain had, in fact, been the sentient life form. Murray shied away from the term “Marble,” even though the report used it freely. She’d heard the bounty hunter spit the word out. Not a complimentary term, in any case. A sentient species, capable of feeling, of humanoid sentiment.

Rook. She tapped at the console absently and stared back at the stars. She’d seen him wake, take over the metal body she’d repaired. He’d even tried to tell her…I’m not. Her brow came down slightly. He might have taken over any body, as could any of his kind. Who could help but fear that kind of power? Even the Damascans feared it, eventually, once they’d evolved from dominating lower life forms, once they’d assimilated at a humanoid level, a level with a conscience.

But they’d signed the bloody treaty. Murray tapped the file shut and stood up. They’d traded their freedom for the technology to create cybernetic bodies, bodies that would expunge their parasitic existence. It had to count for something, prove something about their intentions.

She paced across the bridge to the pilot’s chair, ran a hand across the back rest. It hadn’t, of course. The rest of the galaxy remained petrified of the Damascans' abilities even centuries after the stupid treaty imprisoned the entire race on their home planet. Which was another problem. They’d discovered Rook on a Crag. He’d been taken into custody on the space station. He was guilty as all sin.

Murray smiled and bit back another flutter of excitement. She didn’t care—not if he was guilty, not if he might be classifiable as a parasite. Rook was no machine. The implications of that single fact continued to swirl through her nervous system along with the memory of an interrupted massage.

She pressed the central communications panel and waited for an answer from cargo. She could live on one planet quite happily. She’d had just about enough of adventure, anyway, enough of exotic worlds and alien assholes.

“Mur?” Zora’s voice crackled through the bridge.

“No, it’s your fairy godmother.”

“Funny.”

“How’s our sticky cargo faring?”

“Same as before. Poor Teepo.”

“We’ll sort it out.” Maybe Damascus had its share of open spaces. “Don’t worry, Zor.”

“I was thinking something, Mur.”

“What’s that?”

“That blue sphere thing.”

“His name is Rook, Zora.”

“Right, but I mean…”

“What?”

“You don’t think it’s a little bit weird? Even weirder than the android thing?”

“No.”

“Okay, but what about that treaty thingy?”

“What about it?”

“He sort of broke it.”

“I’m not worrying about it.” She spun the chair around and settled in, leaned back against the padding and closed her eyes. “The Damascans have an open culture, aside from allowing their own people off world, that is. They don’t get a lot of tourism, but we shouldn’t have any trouble getting clearance to land.”

“And then what?”

“I’m going to contact his defense.”

“Do you think they’ll let you see him?”

“I hope so.” Her hands tightened around the chair arms. They had to let her see him. “Zor, we found Rook in Crantok’s dungeon, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, how do we know Cran didn’t kidnap him?”

“Then violating the treaty wouldn’t be his fault.”

“Exactly.”

“You think it’ll get him off?”

“That depends on the Damascan justice system. If not, maybe we can at least get him a gentler sentence.” How bad could the punishment be? Murray imagined young Damascans in the past had certainly been tempted to sneak a little adventure off-world. It probably happened all the time. For a second, the com stayed silent. Murray could almost hear the slime drizzling over the static. If Crantok stole Rook from Damascus--and it wasn’t like she’d put it past him--they’d have to drop the charges, wouldn’t they?

“It’s a good plan, Mur.” Zora laughed, and the sound echoed in the huge bay. “Even if it’s not true, who’s going to argue with it?”

Murray snorted. Certainly not Crantok--maybe his brother--she didn’t care. There had to be an explanation behind the crime, and that one fit. She’d get in to see Rook, and he’d tell her what happened, and then things would be fine, even with the treaty. They’d sort it out.

If she had a whisper of doubt, if a tiny shred of worry nagged at her, she was damn sure going to ignore it.

Next Episode

Episode Thirty One: The Bureaucracy

2010-08-18T16:17:00.000-07:00

The Alien-Human Relations department hid on the lowest level of the station that could conceivably house living creatures. Below it, the gears and mechanisms hummed. The station engines, the esoteric machines that ran things like: life support, orbital stability and sensor arrays groaned and rattled with their joint efforts until the hallways above constantly vibrated.

Murray eyed the nearest wall as if it might reach out and trip her. “They don’t exactly make access convenient, do they?”

“If they did, they might have to do paperwork.” Zora shrugged and gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “We’ll find it, Mur.”

The hallway curved along with the arc of the station’s outer wall. The floor had never seen a mop, and the lighting barely counted as illumination. Each office doorway boasted a rectangular reflector that glowed pale blue--a dotted line of rooms--and each door’s designation could be read, if one squinted hard enough, below.

“Medical records.” Zora called them off as they passed. “Employee records, Accounting, Maintenance Data, Security Records.”

“That’s it.” Murray stopped and peered at the stenciled letters. “They said I could lodge a formal complaint here.” She pushed against the door with a leaden arm. They’d already gone through this three times on other levels. Three times they’d been redirected, schmoozed, sent to a different department. What were the odds she’d find out anything here?

The Alien-Human Relations department had done little to impress her so far, and she found Security Records equally predictable. The office was deserted, like the halls and the lifts that led to this part of the station. Filth and detritus lingered in the corners of the waiting area, and the pseudo-skin couches did everything but suggest you actually sit on them.

“At least they’re consistent.” Zora squished her face into a picture of disgust and slid sideways past the closest chair.

Murray watched her approach the dingy counter and suffered her tenth pang of despair. No one would give them any information, and every minute that passed meant Rook slipping further away. She’d promised Zor she wouldn’t panic, but when the woman behind the plasti-glass shook her head, it was all Murray could do not to run up and bang her fists against the window.

“Thank you,” Zora took the packet of forms the woman passed through a slot and turned back toward the door. “Come on, Mur.”

She didn’t like the look on Zora’s face or the thickness of the forms she held, but she followed her out into the hallway. What choice did she have? But when they stood in the blue glow again, she let her calm crack a little. “Well? What did she give you?”

“The run-around.” Zora started off down the hallway.

“Wait!” Murray planted her feet on the spot and crossed her arms. She ignored the pressure building behind her eyes. “What about the forms? Can’t we lodge a complaint?”

“If you want to wait three months for a response,” Zora snapped. “I’m sick of this crap. Come on.”

“Where now? They won’t even let us see him, won’t even tell me what he did.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper. Did she really want to know what he did?

“Well I’m tired of playing this their way,” Zora said. “And I’d bet my next meal the computers in these offices are all connected.”

“So?”

“Ha.” Zora stuck out her hip and tossed her hair. “Just you watch.”

She took off again, using a stride that Murray labeled “full tart mode.” She didn’t care. If Zora could help her, help Rook, she’d forgive almost anything. At each doorway, they stopped while Zora snuck a peek inside. Each time she shook her head, spared Murray a flicker of a glance and then darted forward to the next in line. Murray slumped against the wall and waited for the latest result. This time, however, Zora grinned. She shut the door and adjusted the front of her shirt until her cleavage miraculously appeared.

“Jackpot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just follow my lead.”

“What?” Before Murray could insist on her modesty, Zora pulled open the door, this time wide enough to admit them. A chime rang as Zora crossed the threshold.

Murray kept her shirt properly buttoned, but followed her sister into the room. If she swung her hips in a more demure imitation of Zora’s movements, it was only with the thought of helping find Rook. She squinted at the painted designation as she passed under the reflector and frowned. Intoxicant Testing? What Zora had up her sleeve, Murray could only guess, but it was definitely starting to scare her.

The room didn’t have a couch. It didn’t even have a counter. An electronic poster flashed against one wall, and a 3-D copier dominated the opposite one. The machine sported a crudely written “out of order” sign attached with enough tape to mummify a standard sized humanoid. Zora ignored both and sauntered directly to the stubby desk and its lone occupant.

“Hi.” Zora’s voice infused the word with several, naughty syllables.

“Hi,” Murray parroted without the added effect.

“Huh?” The kid looked up from his sandwich. He had a young face and a shock of scruffy hair, but the expression held too much suspicion for real youth.

“Excuse me.” Zora tried demure next. “But my sister and I need your help.”

“We need your help,” Murray said. “Help.”

“Right.” He picked up the sandwich again and wiped a smear of peanut butter from the desk top. “Wrong office.”

“You’ll have to excuse my sister.” Zora glared in her direction. “She’s emotionally distraught.”

Murray held her tongue. She understood that look just fine.

“Huh. Well, we don’t do damsels in distress here.”

“Right.” Zora sat on the edge of the desk. “I totally understand.” She nodded and smiled like a cat. Murray took a step away. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Dylan.”

“Okay, Dylan. I understand. Wrong office, Mur.” Zora shrugged, but didn’t budge from the edge of his desk. Instead, she leaned forward until Dylan’s eyes boggled. “Maybe you could give us some advice, though, Dylan. You see we’re trying to find out what happened to a friend of ours.”

“A friend?” Dylan gulped and set the sandwich down without taking a bite.

“Do you have computer access?”

“Yeah, but we’re not authorized…”

“Mur, why don’t you wait in the hall?”

Murray didn’t argue. She didn’t lecture, or even consider it. She cast a parting look at the poor kid, hopelessly outmatched and practically drooling, and dove for the door. She trusted Zora. The woman was in her arena, and Murray felt certain of their triumph.

She waited outside, leaning against the wall between doors where the reflector’s glow didn’t reach her. She trusted Zora, but she still felt sick, still feared any answers they might get. She needed a nap. She needed a cup of black coffee, even the nasty stuff at Jebezels would work, and she needed her android back. She needed Rook.

When the door opened again, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Her heart thumped as Zora slid back into view, almost unruffled, almost buttoned up. She tossed her hair over her shoulder grinned at Murray. “I got it, Mur.” Her hand flipped up, a single data disk held between two sharp nails. “I got everything.”

Murray’s nerves danced around a wave of guilt. She couldn’t help but ask. “What did it cost you?”

“Nothing,” Zora shrugged it off. “Not much, anyway. He’s just a kid.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, Mur.” Zora waved the disk a little, and the bottom dropped out of Murray’s victory. “You’re not going to like this one bit.”

Next Episode

Episode Thirty: The Confession

2010-08-05T13:37:00.000-07:00

The door vibrated under her fist. Murray paused and then pounded on it again. It felt good, beating something. It gave the panic a place to go, but it would feel a lot better if her sister answered the bloody door.

“Zora!” She growled at the closed panel and rapped her fist in a fresh series of knocks. “Zor-aaaaaaaaaaa!”

She’d been banging on the damned thing for five minutes. Her fist hurt. She’d been forced to snarl at one confused passerby, but the late hour saved her from too much attention. Not that she cared. Not that a woman in a bathrobe pounding on a doorway in the middle of the night counted as anything unusual in the guest quarters. She hardly mattered. Nothing mattered except getting Zora to open the damned door. She kicked it. That felt even better.

“Zora! Zor--.” Kick, kick. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

The panel clicked softly. Murray heard movement on the other side and held off her latest assault mid-kick. She inhaled, gathering enough breath for another bout of wailing. When the panel moved, she let it out at once and leaned forward against the wall.

“Zora, I need…”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I need…they took…”

“It’s not a good time, Mur.”

“What?” She gaped at Zora. “How—but…” Murray thought about kicking her. That would feel even better. Instead she burst into tears. Her shoulders dropped and sobs wrenched out of her in waves.

“Uh.”

“They—took—him—away.”

“Uh, Mur?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Murray tried to kick her, but the sobs had taken too much energy. She fell forward, pushed a shocked Zora aside and stumbled into the room. The bed made a solid looking blur to her right and she staggered a few steps across the room and slumped down on the end of it.

“Murray?” Zora’s voice sounded softer than normal, not even a little angry at the intrusion. “Mur, what happened?”

Murray felt the bed shift as Zora sat down. A bare arm draped across her shoulders, and a second wave of weeping threatened to wash out. She bit it back and closed her eyes. “I think I’m in love with my android.”

“Gross.” A male voice, unfamiliar and raspy, weighed in from the head of the bed.

“Shhh,” Zora hissed.

Murray spun out of the embrace and stood up. The twin to Zora’s late fiancé sat against the wall, two of his scaly arms draped out across the headboard and the other two crossed in his lap. Murray snagged up the flapping front of her bathrobe and straightened into a more dignified stance.

“I’m just saying.” The alien shoulders shrugged and a disgusted expression crossed his disgusting features.

“Shut up,” Zora said. She wore even less than Murray did, though she certainly seemed more relaxed about it.

“She said android, right?”

“You should go now.”

“But--.”

Zora raised one hand, and Crantok’s brother sighed. He slid his legs over the side of the bed and wrapped the sheet around his waist. Murray averted her gaze while he made for the bathroom. She watched Zora gather the man’s clothes as if it were absolutely fascinating. Her world had ripped apart at the seams, but somehow, knowing that Zora was still Zora actually helped. A creepy sort of calm crept through her veins, and she sat back down on the bed to wait.

Zora returned to sit beside her after passing the garments through the bathroom panel. Neither of them said anything. Eventually the panel slid open, and Zora’s guest emerged. He looked a question at them, then shrugged at some invisible response from Zora and made a quick exit.

“The four-armed thing really does it for you?” Murray asked when they were alone.

“It’s not just the arms.”

“Oh.”

“You’re in love with Rook?”

“No. Yes, I mean. Yes I am, but that’s not it.” The panic reared again. It whispered at her that too much time had already passed, that even Zora wouldn’t be able to fix this. “They took him away, Zor. Security. They came and took him away.”

“Security took Rook away?”

“Yes.” A tiny sob squeaked out behind the word. “They said he violated some kind of treaty.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, but he said…” Murray’s throat went dry and threatened to prevent her from speaking. She took a slow breath and ignored her shoulders’ quivering. “He said he was guilty.”

“He knew,” Zora said. “He didn’t want to come here, Mur. Remember?”

“But.”

“Damn it!” Zora stood up. She stamped one foot and threw her hands to her hips. “Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he just stay on the ship?”

A knot of guilt sank into her stomach. She hung her head, stared at her hands and let the tears loose.

“Mur?”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered. “He left the ship to—.”

“We need to see somebody in charge.” Zora’s tone shifted. She stamped her foot again. “We’ll sort this out, Mur. They can’t take him. We’ll take responsibility. He’s our property. There has to be some angle we can work.”

“How?” Murray sniffed, but raised her eyes to find Zora grinning. This was better. This was Zora defiant, determined, ready to kick ass. Zora like this got whatever she wanted, always. “What do we do now?”

“Whatever it takes.” That the grin bordered on lunacy only made Murray more certain of their success. “We do whatever it takes, Mur.”

Next Episode

Episode Twenty-Nine: The Arrest

2010-07-24T07:28:00.000-07:00

“Where is he?”

“I—I don’t know.” Murray shut her mouth and waited for the bounty hunter to look away. He made her feel guilty, even though she knew there had to be a mistake. He knees rattled when he looked at her. “I don’t know what this is about.”

“He’s here.” The hairy head nodded and turned away at last. “And no one ever does.”

Murray tried to see around him. Her eyes covered the room right along with his. She shook her head at the spot where Rook had stood not three seconds before she opened the door. Where the hell was he? More importantly—she stole a nervous glance toward the door—why would he hide?

The bounty hunter stood like a furry wall just inside the room. He gave her the creeps, possibly because he’d managed to slip his substantial bulk through her doorway without any invitation from her. The shock of finding no one behind her hadn’t helped.

“Marble!” The long arms flexed and twitched near the guy’s belt, giving the impression that he wanted to shoot someone—possibly anyone. “I know you’re in here, Marble.”

“I don’t know who you’re looking for.” Murray swallowed when the gaze shifted back to her. “But I believe you’re in the wrong room.”

“Right.” The bounty hunter grinned. He let his eyes fall to her bare feet and then climb her frame slowly.

Murray shivered. She had a feeling he saw more than just her robe clutched tightly at the front, her loose hair, the flush warming her cheeks. She tried to stand taller. “You’re in the wrong room.”

“Okay.” He shrugged and turned toward the door. Just as she let out a relieved breath, however, he spun back around. This time the blaster left the belt. It flew into position, pointing directly at her face. “Marble!” he shouted. “I know you’re in here, hiding, using some Marble trick. Maybe the lady’s telling the truth. Maybe she don’t know nothing. And maybe you don’t care if I mess up her pretty face.”

Murray heard the weapon’s power supply humming. Rook hadn’t left the room. She reminded her knees that the only exit had been full of bounty hunter the entire time. He wouldn’t let this guy shoot her. He’d already come to her rescue more than once. Her legs continued to ripple. They didn’t believe a word of it.

Not that she doubted him. Not really. The idea that he might disappear at will, she quickly amended onto the list of Rook’s other miraculous abilities. But the way this bounty hunter spoke, the way he said the word “marble” and his absolute iron belief that his quarry hid in her room bothered her. What if some criminal had hidden under her bed? What if someone had watched them the whole time? Wasn’t it time for someone to rescue her?

The bounty hunter stepped closer, and Murray could feel the weapon vibrating millimeters from her forehead. “You gonna let me pop her, Marble? Huh? Maybe you don’t care.” He didn’t move, but his big eyes darted from side to side. “Then again, maybe you’re sneaking up on me. Maybe you think you’re fast enough to take me out before I flinch.”

Murray hoped he didn’t think that. She didn’t like the look on this guy’s face one bit. He leaned closer, and his fat, gray lips cracked into a smile. She glanced down to his belt. His free hand hovered there, clutching a small device. It looked simple enough to terrify her. She glanced over his shoulder where nothing snuck up on him. Nothing that wasn’t invisible, that is. Murray heard a familiar, if faint, metallic ping and pressed her eyes shut. She held her breath and waited for Rook to fix the situation.

Nothing happened. The blaster continued to buzz at her head. Over it, she heard the ping again, much closer, close enough to do something. When the body guard chuckled, however, she knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

“Well, well, Marble.” He growled the word this time.

Murray didn’t want to look, but when the blaster fell away from her, and she heard its owner take a heavy step back, she opened her eyes. The sight of Rook sent a wave of relief from her toes upward. It fizzled about knee high when she noticed the device. The bounty hunter stood by her bed. He held the mechanism he’d had at his belt pointed directly at Rook, and the android wasn’t moving.

“Rook?” Murray saw his eyes flicker in her direction, but the rest of him remained frozen. From the posture, she guessed their intruder had been correct. Rook had snuck up on him. “What did you do to him?”

“Motor function inhibitor.” The device bobbed in the air as the man gestured with it. “Calibrated to exactly match a specific Marble’s body. Very classified. Very restricted.” He circled around Rook as he spoke. “Your council was more than happy to bend the rules in your case, Marble. They’re very anxious to see you.”

“You’ve made a mistake.” Murray stepped to Rook’s side. He remained slightly bent forward, reaching for the bounty hunter’s previous position. “You have the wrong man.”

“Man?” The guy chuckled like gravel crushing. “You don’t get it, Lady.” He waved the inhibitor dramatically for her. “I can’t have the wrong guy.”

“I’m calling security.”

“You’ll save me some time, then.”

They stared at each other around the immobile android. Murray tried her best to match the bounty hunter, posture for posture. She stood as tall as she could and scowled back at him.

“Aren’t you going to call them?”

“Fine.” She took a step toward the room com, but the door buzzed before she reached it. She looked to Rook, prayed he might be able to give her some kind of guidance, but he eyes fixed on the device that held him prisoner. “Who is it?” She hollered toward the door. Maybe it was Zora. Murray figured Zora would know exactly how to handle this guy.

“Security. Open up.”

“Oh good. They’re here.” She tried to sound thrilled, to feel rescued.

“Aren’t you going to let them in?” The bounty hunter didn’t help her confidence at all.

“Shut up.” She punched the door control and watched the cavalry enter. The station’s security officers wore yellow. Four of them filed into her relatively small guest room. They circled her android and completely ignored the gorilla holding him hostage. “This man broke into my room,” Murray said as loud as she could muster. “He threatened me with a weapon and attacked my android.” She sniffed at the finish for emphasis. It seemed necessary. None of the security detail even glanced in her direction.

“Is this your guy?” One of them asked the bounty hunter.

“It’s him.” The gorilla waved his device again and aimed a smug expression in Murray’s direction.

Two of them took hold of Rook’s elbows. They grunted and tried to lift him.

“Wait!” Murray’s chest tightened. She scrambled between yellow uniforms and found herself clinging to one silver bicep. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.”

“Step away from the fugitive.”

“He’s not—no.” She tightened her grip on Rook’s arm, shouldering into the nearest security officer and gritting her teeth.

“You said I could have this one.” The bounty hunter spoke up.

“You can deliver him. But the Marbles want this done officially. No errors.”

Murray couldn’t tell which one of them spoke. She didn’t know who was in charge. It didn’t matter. She wrapped her arms around Rook’s and held on for dear life.

“Ragham Olius Octavian Kitron,” the voice behind her said. “You are officially under arrest for violating the Damascan Treaty, article 654B section 3.”

“Stop,” Murray whispered. “He didn’t do anything.”

“You will be returned to Damascus immediately to stand trial for your crime.”

“Let him go.”

“I’ll have to ask you to step away, Ma’am.”

“No.” She felt them take her arms, and wove her fingers together. They tugged at her elbows without much force. “Please.”

“Ma’am, we don’t want to hurt you.”

They just wanted to take him away from her. She snarled, “Piss off.”

“Doctor Murray.” Rook’s mouth didn’t move, but his voice reached her clear enough.

“No.”

“It’s imperative that you listen.”

She looked up, but didn’t loosen her grip.

“Doctor Murray.” His eyes flickered to hers for only a second before dancing away again. “I need you to let go.”

Her hands dropped away. She stared at a metal profile that refused to turn in her direction. The second she released him, the security duo moved back in. Their leader continued as if the interruption hadn’t happened.

“Do you understand the nature of these charges?”

“Yes,” Rook said.

“Would you like to enter a plea at this time?”

Murray held her breath. He didn’t turn, but his eyes darted her way just once before he answered.

“Gulity as charged.”

Next Episode

Episode Twenty-Eight: The Massage

2010-07-14T07:36:00.000-07:00

She had nothing on under the robe. The thought nagged at her as she poured her drink. She should excuse herself and put on something decent.

“How is you wound?” Rook’s voice spoke from behind her—just behind her.

“Fine.” The ice in her tumbler rattled and threatened to spill. She poured too much gin to allow for tonic, drained the glass in one swallow. “It’s fine. Much better.”

“You seem nervous.”

“Really?” Murray poured herself a second drink before turning around. This one, she held in a steely grip.

“Yes.” He laughed, exactly the way androids never laughed. The corner of his metal mouth twitched in a deceptively organic gesture.

“That amuses you?” Murray prickled. It didn’t matter that the amusement had programming behind it; the rules stopped applying to Rook ages ago.

“A little.” He stood less than two steps in front of her. “Only because I’m the one who should feel nervous.”

That one shocked her. It also sent a terrified spasm through her brain. What if he confessed something she wasn’t ready to hear? What if they went one step too far? Why did she feel a little tickle of excitement at the thought? If she asked him, would there be any way to go back to normal?

“Doctor Murray?”

“I can’t imagine why you’d be nervous.” It didn’t quite count as asking.

He stepped away and paced across the apartment before answering. Like that, with a little distance between them, Murray managed to breathe, to sip at her glow gin and wait for him to drop the bomb.

“I believe it is imperative that I share some information with you, Doctor Murray. There are things about me and about my past, however, that I fear may dramatically alter your opinion of me.”

“Huh?” She frowned. He was worried about his past? Murray felt heat steal across her cheeks. She’d thought—she’d assumed---he meant to talk about something quite different.

“I fear I’ve misled you.”

“No!” She waved off the thought. “Of course you haven’t.”

She’d believed Zora. How stupid was that? Murray knew better, and now she’d come very close to embarrassing herself beyond imagining.

“When you first found me,” Rook’s voice continued in the background. “I allowed you to assume a great many things.”

The ice in her glass set to rattling again. She thought about how close she’d come to doing something rash and gulped down the second drink. If she’d gone down to the ship earlier, if she’d caught him by surprise—she needed to sit down.

“Doctor Murray, are you well?”

He seemed to be standing closer and at a very odd angle. Murray frowned. Had she sat down or fallen?

“I believe I should examine your injury.”

“No!” Painfully aware of her state of undress, Murray snapped back to present. She sat in the padded chair beside the room’s counter, just a pace from the bar and about a second away from passing out. “I’m fine, Rook.” She could handle this. She was a scientist. “I’m simply suffering from a little post traumatic tension.”

“It’s been a very long journey.”

“Yes, it has.” Murray nodded and looked down at her hands. Her glass was empty. She reached out and set it on the bar.

“And you’ve dealt with more than your share of stress.” He circled around to the back of the chair and placed firm hands on her shoulders.

He had a point. She had been through a lot lately. Her field training hadn’t included anything on fleeing from reptilian overlords. His fingers pressed against the knots under her skin. She’d never learned anything at school about illegal cloning operations, seedy pseudo-zoos, or covert rescue missions. “Hmmm.” He massaged across the base of her neck, and she let her head fall forward. “That was really sore.”

“I can imagine.” He brushed her hair aside and ran one hand up the back of her neck. “Relax.”

Murray let her shoulders fall. She sighed and closed her eyes. His fingers—cool, but not cold—pulled the stress down out of her neck. They circled over her shoulders, leaving tingling trails in their wake. They invoked little waves of heat to either side of her spine. The tingles spread.

“I care for you a great deal,” he said.

“mmmm.” What? A jolt of reality sent her spine rigid again. Her robe had slipped, or been slipped, off her shoulders. It still covered her, but only by the grace of low gravity and the pressure of the chair against her back. She pressed the front together with her hands and tried to shake off the little shivers his touch sparked all along her spine. Had he just said that, or had she drifted off?

“Doctor Murray?”

“Hmm?” She sat up straight, and his hands stopped. They didn’t lift away from her skin, however, and the soft contact seemed worse, or better. She couldn’t say which. She was having a rough time just breathing properly.

“I believe that I’m--.”

The door chime screeched through the moment. For a second, she didn’t recognize it. Rook’s hands abandoned her back, however, and her head cleared enough to remind her about her robe. She slid it back up toward decent. When the door went off again, she stood up.

“That must be Zora.” She took a step away from the chair.

“I don’t think so.”

She kept moving, crossed to the door without looking back. Murray didn’t care who it was, she’d fallen in over her head. A distraction, any distraction, might give her enough time to catch her breath at least. She pressed the controls and the panel slid aside.

The giant on the other side grinned at her. He nodded, put one grayish hand up between them and used the other to pat meaningfully at the blaster strapped to his hairy waist. “Doctor Livingston?” His mouth parted, revealing pointed canines. Murray took a step back.

She shook her head, taking in the shoulders that stretched beyond the width of her room’s entrance. He had to stand at least seven feet tall, had hunched over to peer in at her. She shook her head again.

“You are Doctor, Murray Livingston,” he said. The white vest pointed at the bottom, flagging the belt where his gun waited.

“Yes.” She swallowed a lump of nothing and tried to stop shaking. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem.” The teeth appeared again. “You have a fugitive in your possession, and I’m here to relieve you of him.”

Next Episode

We're One Year Old!

2010-07-09T17:47:00.000-07:00

SPACE SLUGS ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY

Space Slugs will be one year old on Sat. July 10th. In celebration, I'm holding an all day facebook party at: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Frances-Pauli/112884745408149
There will be sneak peeks at upcoming episodes, favorite quotes, and on the hour trivia questions with FABULOUS PRIZES.....

okay, they're sort of fabulous, fun and campy prizes. :-D

Stop by for some super snarky space action and trivia lunacy.

Frances Pauli

Episode Twenty-Seven: The Greasy Spoon

2010-07-01T19:06:00.000-07:00

“Do you think he wanted to come?” Murray stared across the diner, over the packed tables and a sea of sentient species. “It’s not really fair to make him stay with the ship.”

“He’s an android, Mur.” Zora blinked at her over the top of her menu. It flashed and scrolled today’s special across the front for the hundredth time. “I doubt he could enjoy the food, and someone needed to keep an eye on our cargo.”

“But, maybe he wanted to come along.” Babysitting the slug duo didn’t count for much of a break in Murray’s book.

“I doubt it. He’s been trying to wiggle out of coming here for days.”

“Why?”

“He’s your android, Mur. If you ask me acting weird seems to be part of its programming.” Zora shrugged and turned back to the menu. “What are you having?”

“I don’t know. Horrible coffee and a burger the size of my head?”

“You know what I think?” Zora put down her menu and leaned back against the squishy, metallic booth. “I think you wish he’d come along.”

“Don’t be stupid, Zor.” Murray hid behind her own menu. “What are you having?”

“Earth burger.” Zora grinned maniacally over the electronic plastic. “And a fry weave, a thunder shake and a side of Martian holo-relish.”

“Is that all?”

“Until dessert.”

They stared at each other. Jebezel’s hover bubbles danced their light show overhead, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the diners’ features. The background music whined and thumped until the gelatinous furniture bounced them gently up and down. The conversation, in several dozen different languages, drowned most of it out, but the patrons could feel the tunes literally vibrating through the restaurant.

“Did he tell you why he didn’t want to come?” Murray narrowed her eyes and tried to stare down her bobbing sister. “Or not?”

“Not.” Zora frowned and looked past Murray to the crowd. “Why don’t you just sleep with the metal man and get it over with, Mur. This crap is getting old.”

Before she could scramble up a retort, the bot arrived to take their order. It floated just above her shoulder, humming faintly and blinking its friendly green smile at them. Aside from the light show, it looked exactly like a miniature version of the beer keg that had stunned her.

“Have you decided?” It purred at them, and Murray flinched.

Zora rattled off her order, the bot recording every word, and then turned back to people watching while Murray ordered her Earth burger and coffee. She sighed, and rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut. The bot hummed off toward the kitchen, and Zora didn’t speak.

Murray waited. She didn’t want to talk about Rook. Still, Zora just stared out across the room and said nothing. It was an old game, and one Murray rarely won. She drummed her fingers on the table and tried to ignore Zora ignoring her.

The lights danced overhead. The furniture bounced and hummed, and the restaurant’s customers babbled in every language under the nearest sun. Her sister’s lips pressed together as if glued. Murray caved, “I just don’t know.”

Zora raised an eyebrow and made a clueless face—as if she had no idea what Murray meant, as if she hadn’t started it.

Murray leaned forward and whispered, “I can’t.” She looked to either side of the table, scanned the crowd for signs that anyone nearby might be listening. “Can I?”

Zora didn’t flinch. Her expression didn’t even crack. She leaned forward until their noses almost touched. Her exaggerated whisper echoed around the tables, “Yes!”

“Shhh! Jeeze, Zor. Keep it down.”

“Sleep with the android, and I’ll shut up about it, Mur. I can’t live with you two like this anymore.”

Murray sat back and frowned. “You don’t think it will be a mistake, you know, afterwards?”

“Of course it’s a mistake, Mur.” Zora shrugged off the repercussions, the potential awkwardness, and the moral implications like she shrugged off everything else. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mur. Most of the fun in this universe is a mistake afterwards. You should learn to make a few from time to time.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do. Shit!” Zora ducked down and threw one of the menus up in front of her face. “Mur, quick, hide me.”

“What?” She turned around, twisted to see the restaurant entrance. The alien standing there, scanning for an empty table, gave her nerves a terrified little jolt. “Oh!” She ducked down in her own seat and grabbed for her menu. “I thought your slug, you know.”

“It’s his brother,” Zora whispered. This time, she got the volume right.

Murray snuck another peek around the side of her chair. The four-armed sibling to Zora’s last fiancé wandered between the tables. He headed for a far corner. “It’s all right.” She sat up just as the bot returned with their tray. “I don’t think he saw you.”

“Good.” Zora tossed her hair and reached for the towering fry weave.

“Do you think he’s looking for us?”

“Why?”

“Because we killed his brother, maybe?”

“Uh-uh. He hated Crantok.”

“So, why are you hiding from him, then?” Murray watched her unthread a fry and stuff it down. She sipped her coffee and waited while Zora took a slurp of her shake.

“It’s a long story,” Zora said when she came up for air. She waved her hand around and rolled her eyes. “You know.”

Murray could have sworn she blushed a little. “Never mind, Zor.” Anything that could make Zora blush was too much for her. “I don’t want to know.”

*

She paced across the carpet for the tenth time. What did Zora know? She turned on a heel and crossed the room again. Her room, she tried not to note that Zora had her own, that it would take the press of one button to contact the ship docked a few levels down.

Damn it, she knew a mistake when she stared down the barrel of one. Zora might be able to handle more than her share of morning-after guilt, but Murray doubted her own tolerance for it. She could use to check on the slugs, though. It might even be wise to just go on down there and…

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Murray stomped her foot at herself and flopped down on the bed just as the door buzzed. With a groan, she heaved back to her feet and stalked to the wall panel. “Go away, Zora.” She pressed the door release. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The door slid open, revealing a wall of gleaming, silver muscle. Murray took a step back. She stuffed her hands into her robe pockets and dug her nails into her palms.

“Doctor Murray?” Rook took her retreat as an invitation and stepped into the room. “I thought we might have that talk now.”

Next Episode

Episode Twenty-Six: Matchmaker

2010-06-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

“You promised.” Zora swung her chair away from the main screen and stuck out her lower lip. “You said as soon as we got Neela back. It’s already been four days.”

“Oh, and I don’t suppose getting injured while trying to cover your stupid ass buys me a few days in medical?” Murray leaned back in Rook’s chair and pretended to frown at her sister. She’d only been sprung from the couch that morning, and then only after a lecture from her android on the need to exercise caution. Sitting on the bridge of the Slug One arguing with Zora about a cup of coffee seemed just a little bit like heaven today.

“I want an Earth Burger.”

“Fine. How far away is it?” She stared at the controls as if she knew which one brought up a sector map, as if she might press the correct button at any moment.

“I got it,” Zora sighed. “The closest Jeb’s is only two jumps from here.”

The view screen flickered and a diagram of the sector replaced the endless star field. Jump gate symbols dotted the area, glowing blue for Gal-Fed affiliated lanes and red for those held by private corporations, or in a few cases, individuals. The ratio seemed skewed slightly toward the latter, not the norm where Murray came from.

“You really dragged us out to the edge of civilization, didn’t you, Zor?” She squinted at the route her sister highlighted. Two jumps to the nearest Jeb’s, on a space station orbiting some gas giant in the middle of freaking nowhere.

“Yeah.” Zora shrugged. “That’s where all the action is, Mur.”

The click of metal feet brought Murray’s chair around in time to see Rook step through the cockpit entrance. He ducked under the low bulkhead and froze facing the screen’s display. She heard one sharp ping before the humming in his chest resumed.

“Doctor Murray.” When he looked away from the sector map, she could have sworn his jaw tensed. “Have you experienced any discomfort?”

“She’s fine,” Zora drawled from her post. “But she could use a good cup of coffee and a burger.”

“H22-J123T?” He didn’t ping, but his humming lowered perceptibly.

“Yeah, Stud. We want to go to Jebezel’s.”

“Wait.” Murray had the sudden impression that the topic had been the source of argument between them. “I never said that.”

“You promised, Mur.”

“Doctor Murray.” Rook turned his back to Zora, faced Murray directly. His expression fixed into robotic mode—impossible to read. “Is it your wish that we proceed to H22-J123T?”

“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “It might be nice.” She couldn’t see much of Zora around Rook’s figure, but what she could make out looked threatening. “I did promise her.”

“As you wish.” He closed the gap between them, leaned across Murray and punched a sequence of keys she could only guess set their course for the space station. “I could use an Earth Burger, myself.”

He might have been joking. As far as she knew androids didn’t eat burgers. With Rook, however, Murray never felt sure of anything.

*

“Did he seem weird to you?” Murray eyed the cargo bay door and cringed.

“You mean weirder than normal?” Zora released the door and looked back over her shoulder. “Come on, I need your help.”

“With what?” She followed Zora into the bay and immediately had to dodge a wall of pink Space Slug. “Ahhh!”

“Neep!”

“She hates him,” Zora said. “She won’t let Teepo anywhere near her.”

“Maybe he’s not her type.” Murray swatted away a strand of slime and hugged the wall without actually touching it. “Maybe she doesn’t like yellow.”

“Not funny, Mur.”

“I don’t get it, Zor. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal? Jeeze, Mur. You’re supposed to be the scientist. They’re the last two. The whole species depends on this.”

“You’re trying to breed giant slugs on our space ship? Zora, think about this for a minute. Do you have any idea how many eggs a Space Slug lays?”

“One?”

“Doubtful.”

“Well, how many?”

“I don’t know, but the common garden slug can lay between six and eight hundred.”

“Oh.” Zora bit her lip. She gave Neela a sticky pat and frowned. “But.”

“No, Zora. Just thank your lucky stars she doesn’t fancy yellow.”

She snuck a peak around Neela, whose fat tail section stretched at least half-way across the bay. The floor gleamed with cast-off sticky, and the walls had been criss-crossed with it until they shimmered. Teepo clung to the farthest one, nearly to the roof and quivering from his stubby eye stalks to his tapered yellow tail. He rippled, swiveled his eyes back and forth and let out the most pathetic Neep ever uttered.

“He’s so sad,” Zora said. “She won’t even acknowledge that he’s there.”

“Maybe it is just the ship, Zora.” For whatever reason, possibly the forlorn sound of Teepo’s weak mating call, Murray felt she needed to say something encouraging. “Maybe on a planet, with room to move around. A lot of species won’t breed in a confined environment.”

“Really?”

The sight of Zora hugging her slug almost killed the urge. “Yes, Zora. Really.” Murray sighed and gave up. “Maybe if you found some record of their physiology, preferred habits, anything. I’m sure there’s a database somewhere we could access that might help.”

“Oh, Mur! Thank you!”

She drew the line when Zora dove forward to hug her. The last thing her sister had touched was thirty feet tall and covered in slime. Murray ducked the gesture and backed toward the doorway. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I’ll see what I can find, but I’m not promising anything, Zora.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Zora grinned and squelched back to Neela. “You always sort everything out, Mur.”

When she’d escaped, when the cargo bay doors slid shut and she was alone in the hallway, Murray grinned. She leaned against the wall and checked her wound, though she’d felt very little in the way of pain for days. She sorted everything out? Then how come she hadn’t apologized to her android yet?

She really needed to get around to that one. Now she added matchmaking for two giant gastropods to her to-do list. Murray had a feeling she’d just played right into Zora’s hands, but she didn’t care. She always managed to sort everything out. Zora had a point. But before she started, she intended to enjoy Jebezel’s.

Murray really did have a craving for an Earth Burger.

Next Episode

Episode Twenty-Five: It Takes Two

2010-06-17T20:10:00.000-07:00

“I owe you an apology.” Metal fingers brushed along her side. They lingered for a fraction of a second at her words, and then continued tracing a wide circle around her wound.

“It’s healing well.”

“Rook.”

“Accepted.” His hand dropped away, but she could still hear the humming from his chest.

“You had something important to tell me.” Murray sat up. The wound made no complaint; she felt no pain at all.

He stood so close she could see the metal irises at the back of his eyes. Each segment refracted the overhead light at a slightly different angle, sparkling like human eyes could never sparkle. Somehow that didn’t bother her one bit. When he leaned forward, she held her breath, let her lips part a tiny bit, her eyes flutter closed.

She woke to the rattling of metal. Heavy footsteps pounded in the hall outside. Murray waited for the door to open, for someone to remember she lay there. The steps continued past. She opened her eyes and frowned up at the medical bay ceiling. Her fingers found the tight, sticky patch of skin-seal covering the damage to her side. It would keep out bacteria and contaminants while the regen-gel worked its magic. The wound should be fully healed in three point five days. This morning, it would be seventy-five percent healed.

Stupid Zander. Murray tested her range of movement. She could roll onto her good side with only a twinge of pain. The seal held when she swung her legs over the side of the couch. She sat up, wincing as the muscles tugged at the material. So far so good. She’d had just about enough of the medical bay. She’d had just about enough of solitude.

They’d left another tray for her, slipping in while she slept and back out without waking her. She needed rest and quiet to heal, and her shipmates had obliged dutifully with her recovery. The bastards had completely abandoned her.

Murray used the couch for support and tested her legs. She could stand. She could walk with just a few traces of discomfort. It helped if she braced the wound with her hand. She crossed the room with only a few pauses, leaned against the door for only a few breaths.

The hall was easier. She leaned a shoulder against one wall and shuffled after the footsteps. There’d been an awful lot of traffic in this hallway today. Murray scowled as she passed the door to her room. A lot of traffic that hadn’t stopped by medical to check on her.

She stopped to rest before the hallway teed with the short passage that led to the ship’s cargo area. The seal still held, but her side ached from the effort, and for a second, she wondered if moving had been such a hot idea. If the material tore, she risked infection, further damage and even more time on the medical couch. She considered retracing her steps until the sound of voices whispered from around the corner.

“She doesn’t like him.” Zora sounded different. She’d lost her edgy tone, and sounded like Murray felt—bone tired.

It might have been Rook’s voice that answered, but the static crackled the message too much to be certain. Whoever it was, Zora talked to them over the ship’s com.

“He won’t leave her alone, though. He’s driving her nuts. Yeah. No. I know she needs to rest. No. ”

Murray shuffled to the corner and tried to spy around the edge. She leaned forward, and her side stitched. She squealed and tumbled forward into the hallway.

“Holy shit. She’s out of medical.”

Murray caught a glimpse of Zora, as she staggered into the wall. The skin-seal tore at the impact, and the stitch turned into a stab of pain. She imagined the microbes rushing for the breach and cringed.

“What are you doing?” Zora’s voice wandered closer. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“Who are you talking to? Was that Rook? I think my wound just ripped open. What happened to your hair?”

“Jeeze, Mur. Slow down.” Zora tilted her head and tried to strike an indignant pose, but the slime drizzling off of her bangs ruined the effect. “You tore the seal. I’m telling Rook.”

“What happened to you?” Murray stared at the sheen encasing her sister’s hair. “You’re gooey.”

“Ugh.” Zora relaxed and shrugged. “I tried to tell you. Mur, you’re not going to believe it.”

“Tell me what?”

Zora looked past her down the hallway and then turned over her shoulder to the cargo bay door. She looked back and forth twice before answering, “Okay. I’ll show you, but tell Rook I took you right back to medical or he’ll kill me.”

“Fine.”

Zora walked to the bay door before looking back to see if Murray had managed to follow her. She waited, one toe tapping, while Murray dragged herself along the wall. Each step tugged at the tear in her cyber bandage. Considering how many unclassified bacterium might cling to the ship’s walls, she most definitely should have stayed on the couch.

“Come on, Mur.” Zora peered around Murray at the hallway. She punched the control for the door and slid into the cargo bay.

Murray stared at the opening. She took a hesitant step in that direction, but stopped short and squinted at the floor. Viscous slime oozed around the track where the door had slid aside. It bubbled through the seam at the ceiling. She imagined the bacterium that might live quite happily in slug slime.

“Are you coming?” Zora’s head popped back into view. “Mur?”

“What’s with the goo?”

“Oh.” Zora’s hand lifted and almost brushed her hair back. It hovered a few inches away from her slimy tresses and then fell back to her side. “Right,” she said. “Neela’s been kind of agitated since we left the zoo.”

“Agitated?”

“I can show you if you’d come in.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to expose…”

“Doctor Murray?” Rook’s voice rumbled down the hall. “What are you doing here?”

His tone sparked a rebellious note in her. She didn’t care to enter the slug infested cargo bay, but he sounded very close to forbidding it. He’d also taken two steps in her direction. She imagined her rising pulse had nothing to do with his proximity, but she slid through the doorway just in case.

She wished she hadn’t. Her feet sloshed through a puddle of slime just inside the entrance. She cupped one hand over her wound and scrunched up her face. Zora waited beside Neela, standing nearly knee deep in her pet’s secretions. She patted it with one hand, muttering soft reassurance to the monster.

“The male has her spooked.” Rook hummed to a stop at her side. “Your wound has not fully healed, Doctor Murray.”

“I know.” She kept her gaze riveted on her sister and the slug. Neela rippled from eye stalks to tail tip, and the slime factor on their mollusk had definitely taken a turn toward extreme. “I was beginning to feel a bit like cargo myself. Alone in medical and…the male? Did you say ‘the male?’”

His arm came up, pointing to the left in her peripheral vision. She tracked it to the far corner of the hold where a miniature, lemon yellow version of Zora’s slug had plastered itself half way up the wall. “That would be Zander’s slug,” Rook said.

“His name is Teepo,” Zora added.

Murray’s knees wobbled. She listed to one side and found herself supported by a pair of thick silver arms. She closed her eyes. She imagined she still lay in medical and none of this had actually happened. When she risked a look, a pair of articulated irises sparkled down at her. She shook her head and whispered, “Shit.”

Next Episode

Episode Twenty-Four: Fireworks

2010-06-10T13:17:00.000-07:00

Murray pressed hard against the hole in her side and stumbled backwards. The room tilted and she fell against one of the walls, used her shoulder for support and looked down at her hand. Blood stuck to it at the edges. Smoke wisped from her singed suit.

The bastard shot her. She tried to move her hand, to survey the damage, but the room tilted again. Her whole side burned. Small dagger jolts shot out from the wound. She cringed and tried not to pass out. The floor bucked under her feet, and she heard cussing. Zander. Zander had shot her with—she checked the damage again—some kind of disintegrator.

But he’d had the thing aimed at her…

She shook her head, but a fog had settled there. I’m in shock, she thought. I just might be dying.

“What have you done!” Zander’s voice screamed in her ear.

She turned toward the sound, but the room quivered again. Was it shock, or was the floor really jumping around like that? “What have I done?” She struggled to find him without increasing the pain in her side. “You shot me!”

“Not where it counts.” He slid into view, directly in front of her and with a look that put ice in her veins. “I aimed for your brain.” Murray caught the twist of his lips as he raised the muzzle of the disintegrator and pressed it against her temple. She doubted he could miss at that range.

She closed her eyes. She’d miss out on Zora getting old and gray—something she’d always looked forward to watching. She’d miss arguing with her. She’d miss the way the android acted like he really liked her. Rook. She’d forgotten to apologize to him, definitely should have apologized.

The floor heaved again. Murray felt the cool tip of the weapon slide down her cheek. That time, she felt almost certain the room really moved. “What’s happening?” She winced when his hand moved the gun back into position.

“You tell me,” Zander hissed. “I didn’t order any fireworks.”

Murray frowned. Fireworks. The fog cleared a bit and she remembered a black duffel bag. She remembered the plan. “Zora,” she smiled and leaned her head back against the wall. Zander’s gun moved with her. “She’s blowing up your sonic emitter,” she said.

“Who?”

“My sister. You stole her Space Slug, asshole.”

Zander growled and grabbed her by the free arm. He pulled her upright and the flare of pain blinded her for a second. “Your sister? He shook her, and she stumbled into him. “Your sister is tearing my zoo apart? With what army?”

She tried to think. How many charges had they packed? The walls shuddered. A rain of dusty ceiling particles showered down on them, and Murray’s head cleared. Zora most definitely hadn’t done that. They hadn’t packed anything with that kind of punch.

“Not Zora.” Murray looked him in the eye. If he killed her, she intended to really piss him off first. His eyes looked like slits, wicked and with no trace of compassion. Panic touched the edge of his expression. He’d completely lost it. She laughed. He was nothing worth dying over. He was nothing at all like…

He shook her again, and her hand came away from her side. The wound tore. She screamed, felt the burn throb and start to bleed again. “Who? Who is it?” His fingers dug into her arm and the gun pushed hard enough to drive her head down to her shoulder.

“Activists.” She laughed, and he growled in her ear.

“What?”

“I sent them the transmission. The pictures of your illegal plankton.”

His lip curled, showing white teeth. His eyes flashed, and he twisted at her arm until the skin there burned too. “Who did you send them to?”

Another explosion rattled the building. Murray watched the dust swirling like smoke around his head. She giggled. “The I.S.P.C.A.”

Zander howled and shoved her away. Her legs buckled. She fell, crumpling into a fetal position and venting the pain with a second scream. His boots moved across her vision, but they blurred and wavered in and out of focus.

“You bitch.” He sounded closer than he should have. She guessed he leaned over her, imagined the muzzle aiming for her brain again. “You sicked the freaking radicals on me? I’m going to enjoy killing you!”

He grabbed her hair and lifted her head at an angle that twisted her neck and brought more tears to her eyes. She saw the desk swing by. The doorway wandered back and forth as he gave her another shake.

She moaned and curled around her wound. Through a filter of tears she saw the door shudder. Another fall of debris cascaded from the ceiling. Her activists would tear the building down on top of them before Zander had a chance to disintegrate her. When the door exploded, she didn’t even flinch.

The shower of debris clattered into the room. Murray closed her eyes and wondered if their slug would eat Zander before the night was out. If she’d been thinking ahead, she might have arranged it. If the slug ate him, she’d forgive all the trouble it caused.

A choking noise from above killed her fantasy. She opened her eyes, saw Zander’s boots kicking a good six inches off the ground. Murray frowned and twisted to see the rest of him. He hung in mid-air, both hands clawing at the silver arm attached to a big fist wrapped around his throat. His eyes bulged and the muscles along his neck flexed and rippled in the metal grip.

“Doctor Murray?”

“Rook?”

“Doctor Murray, are you all right?”

“He shot me,” Murray forced the words around a spasm of pain. “Disintegrator wound, here.” She tried to roll onto her back, but her body had had about enough of her moving around. The room faded in and out. She heard Zander scream, saw the flash as Rook’s arm flicked the man across the room. The crash of his impact cut the sound short.

“Doctor Murray.” Rook knelt over her. His face was a blank mask, more robotic than she’d ever seen it. “Doctor Murray, stay with me.”

“Rook.” He blurred in and out of focus, and she struggled to follow his orders. Stay. But black filled the edges of her vision.

She felt him lift her--a white flash of pain at the movement—and she saw the hole where the door had been, knew when he carried her through it. She caught a flash of smoke and night between the blackness. She heard sounds. She imagined explosions and huge awkward ships lumbering above the phony landscape.

“Doctor Murray?” His voice sang above the nonsense. His steps rocked her without pain any longer. “Doctor Murray?”

“Wake up, Mur!”

She opened her eyes. Her sister squinted down at her. The usually perfect red hair flopped like a rat’s nest around Zora’s grease-streaked face. Murray chuckled, and the dagger in her side twisted. “Ouch.”

“Hold still,” Rook said. He shouldered Zora aside. “Doctor Murray, it is imperative that you don’t agitate the wound. The seal has not had time to set properly.”

“And we need to get a move on,” Zora peeked around him. “Come on, Stud, back to the controls.”

“Did they get the animals out?” Murray whispered. She tried to decide if she wanted to know what happened to Zander or not.

“Jeeze, Mur.” Zora replaced Rook, and Murray heard him stepping away. “You called the I.S.P.C.A. down on him.”

“He deserved it. Did the animals…”

“Yeah, they got them.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that? Am I dying?”

“No.” Zora grinned. “I just didn’t know you could be that mean.”

“Yeah. I’m a bad ass.” Murray closed her eyes. She felt the vibration as the ship’s engines hummed to life. “Did you get your slug back? Is it on board?”

“Um, about that, Mur. There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Neela?” A stab of fear surprised her. Did she care if the slug made it?

“She’s fine, Mur. It’s nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

She knew her sister well enough to worry. Still, she could find out later. She needed to rest and suspected they’d given her something to encourage it. She nodded up at a very fuzzy Zora. “Okay, later.” Murray closed her eyes and smiled. Anyway, after tonight, how bad could it be?

Next Episode

Episode Twenty-Three: Stunning

2010-05-21T14:53:00.000-07:00

Getting stunned hurt. Murray made a mental note. Of course, the subsequent falling to the asphalt may have had something to do with the pain. Either way, little daggers pinched up and down her body each time the bot jiggled her.

She’d had no idea the things were so strong. Its spindly, articulated limbs had no problem hoisting her into the air. She eyed the nearest segment and tried scowling at it. Her frozen facial muscles failed to obey the order.

“I really think there’s been a mistake,” she said. It came out somewhat garbled. Her lips had only just started working again. A trail of spittle fell toward the passing sidewalk when she opened her mouth. “I am here on business.” It sounded like a weak argument, even to her. “Important business,” she added.

It beeped twice. A series of red lights flared in an esoteric sequence beside her ear. From her angle—face down and hovering four feet above the ground—that pretty much summed up the bot’s reaction. She did catch the faint humming of circuitry inside its metal case. The sound brought Rook to mind, Rook, who orbited the planet at that very moment, who might already be organizing a rescue if Zora had pulled off her end of the plan.

Considering Murray hadn’t heard a single explosion, it seemed like a thin thread to hang her hopes on.

“I insist on speaking to your boss.” She tried again. The drool dribbled in a squiggle across the sidewalk and onto a smartly polished pair of boots. “I want to see Zander!” Murray demanded. She stared at the boots. Where the hell did they come from? The bot stopped moving.

Murray tried to struggle, to twist in its infuriating grip, but her body felt like a wad of tingling jello. The boot’s owner took matters into his own hands. He leaned down, bringing the cocky, smart-ass grin directly into her line of sight. His dark hair fell down in a stylish wave, even upside down.

“Doctor Murray!” The bastard said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” His eyes narrowed on the last syllable, made it perfectly clear he found nothing pleasurable about the encounter—and neither would she.

“Zander, you son-of-a...”

“Drop her.”

The impact pushed the air out of her lungs. The tingling intensified. She could almost feel her limbs responding to the command to throttle the life out of him. The fingers on her left hand bent a fraction in response.

“She’ll be mobile in a few minutes,” he said. “Bring her to my office as soon as she can walk.”
Murray felt the toe of his boot nudge her side. He rolled her less than gently onto her back and stood grinning down at her. “I know I’m irresistible,” he said. “But you’re going to wish you hadn’t come within light-years of this place.”

“Arrogant jack-aaaaah!”

He kicked her in the side. Murray groaned and forced her mushy body to curl around the pain. She watched his boot heels click away. The silence still didn’t fill with the sound of things blowing up. She closed her eyes against a spasm and wished, just for a second, that the stunner had frozen her voice as well.

When his boots had long since disappeared, and the ache in her middle had dulled a bit, she rolled back onto her side and tested her range of movement. The tingles faded, and she managed to push up into a sitting position. “What an asshole,” she said.

The bot beeped a warning. It hummed closer and an artificial voice commanded, “Get up.” She’d heard it once before, when she chose to ignore its “Halt,” and ended up face down with a splitting headache. This time she obeyed. Fast.

Her legs wobbled, but she managed to remain “up.”

“Walk,” it ordered.

Murray did as she was told. She let the bot direct her up the path. While she walked, she listened to the night that insisted on remaining quiet. They passed the aquatics wing. They took the fork that led to the shuttle bays. They reached a pair of peeling metal doors labeled: employees only. Nothing exploded whatsoever.

“Damn it.”

“Quiet!”

The doors slid open for them, and Murray stepped into a narrow hall. It smelled worse than the animal enclosures. She tried to hold her breath and shuffle forward at the same time. They took a right turn, passed a few closed doors and took three rickety stairs down. Zander’s office door boasted an L.E.D. plague that scrolled “Zoo CEO, president, head honcho, owner, chief and dictator--keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Nice,” Murray said. The robot only hummed in response, and the message started again. “Do we knock?” she asked.

“Open the door.”

The bot, apparently, didn’t do standard door knobs. Murray sighed and pushed open the door.
“Doctor Murray,” Zander snarled. “Come in.”

His office looked like it had been a storage room at one time. Metal shelving lined the walls, but the wide floor lay empty except for a big desk, behind which sat an office chair with more attachments than the bot had. Zander reclined in it. He waved her forward until she stood opposite him. The bot waited by the door, effectively blocking any chance of flight.

“Whatever are you doing here, Doctor?” He practically purred at her, had changed his entire demeanor. Murray guessed why. Her handheld computer lay on the desk in front of him. The bloody bot must have picked it up when it zapped her.

“We have business to discuss,” Murray said. She tried not to let her knees knock together outright. Instead, she forced herself to straighten, and to look him in the eye. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake concerning…”

“What do you want with my plankton?”

“What?” She stared at him.

“You have been photographing my plankton,” he said. A shiver of fear raced through her. Had he checked the transmission records? Murray had the feeling that if Zander knew who she’d contacted she’d be swimming with a different sort of fish in no time.

“This isn’t about plankton,” she said. “You have erroneously taken our Space Slug…”

“You signed it over to me. The thing is legally mine.”

“No. Actually, I did. But you see, it never really belonged to me. She’s my sister’s, and Zora really wants her back. She practically killed me when she found out. So if you could just consider for a minute...”

Zander blinked at her. He shook his head and tapped the portable computer. “Why did you take pictures of my plankton, Doctor Murray?”

The bastard knew they were restricted. He knew exactly what he had down here, and he knew why she’d be interested. Murray shook her head and shrugged. “I like plankton,” she tried.

He reached into the desk drawer. The weapon he pulled out looked illegal. It looked home-made and dangerous as hell. Murray guessed it wasn’t a stunner.

“You have one minute, Doctor Murray,” he said. “To explain to me exactly why I shouldn’t shoot you and feed your body to the Sand Bears.”

“Sand Bears don’t require protein in their diet and…”

He flipped a switch on the weapon’s side and it hummed erratically to life. Murray’s jaw snapped shut. She held her breath. She thought about Rook and Zora and laughed. She’d always assumed it would be Zora that killed her.

Zander stood up and aimed the weapon at her head.

Next Episode

NEWS

2010-05-15T09:21:00.000-07:00

Please stay tuned for this important message...

our regular episode of Space Slugs will follow--though at a much later time, I'm really busy!!

In the meantime, please drop over to: http://www.facebook.com/#!/event.php?eid=121061721238398&index=1
and check out the Space Slugs 1 year Anniversary Event on facebook.

Dr. Murray and the crew of the Slug One are celebrating one full year of living in the blogosphere on: July 10th
and they would like you all to join them for a day of fun, photos, trivia and prizes.

So click on attend, brush up on your sluggy episodes, and get ready for a party in July.

Thanks,
Frances

Episode Twenty-Two: The Mission

2010-05-03T14:53:00.000-07:00

The plankton rolled in a cloud around her, glowing, waving feathery appendages and sending tickles of bio-electric shock through her body. Murray sighed and relaxed. She let herself drift without attempting to swim. The water glowed with the planktons’ currents, neon blue and warm as the sea on Mercur Omega. It almost felt like heaven.

Her breather sent a geyser of bubbles toward the surface. They disappeared into the school of Macro-plankton that obscured her vision above, below and to all sides. She reached out with one hand and let the nearest feelers explore her palm. Tiny jolts of electricity danced across her skin.

The cloud parted to her right, sending a denser rush of feelers swarming to the sides. A leg manifested in their place. It kicked out in Murray’s direction. The rest of Zora followed it into view, thrashing and swinging wildly at the surrounding creatures.

Murray grinned inside her mask and wiggled just enough to drift out of Zora’s range. The plankton swooped in to fill the gap, and her sister faded out of view again.

“Dr. Murray?” Rook’s voice chimed through her modified earpiece. “I believe they have finished scanning, now.”

She kicked her feet together and felt the plankton shift away. The water cleared above, and the surface shifted like a dark mirror. Her head pushed through. She tread water and pulled up the breather, taking in a lung full of stale, zoo-scented air on her first inhale.

The exhibit lighting flickered in a tube to the back of the tank, far outshone by the emanations of the Macro plankton. For all Zander’s neglect, for the dirty glass, the poor filtration and the lack of proper salinity, the aquatics wing still glowed beautifully enough to take her breath away.

Murray kicked to the nearest wall and heaved her body out of the water and over the enclosure side. She peeled a few tenacious plankton from her soaked jumpsuit and leapt down, landing in the aisle between tanks in a puddle of filthy water. She crouched there, holding her breath between two walls of glowing blue water.

“Dr. Murray? Report.”

“We’re good,” Murray whispered. “So far.” She tugged at the waterproof purse tied to her waist, pulling out her hand-held and turning it on the neighboring tank.

“I’m concerned about my distance from the facility,” Rook said. “It will take me a full five minutes to maneuver close enough for retrieval.”

“We’re fine, Rook. Just promise me you can get in here when the time comes to…”

A thump to her right stopped Murray cold. She swiveled toward the tank, dropping back into a crouch and raising a hand to the device in her ear. Behind the glass, the plankton swarm framed Zora, still swimming and, from the look of things, not in the least bit pleased. She scowled inside her breather and thumped a fist against the tank wall.

Murray smiled and gave her a thumbs up. She watched Zora kick for the surface and then turned back to the opposite tank where a school of highly restricted striped Sillus planktoniea swirled in a cloud of legal ramifications. She aimed her hand-held at the glass and punched Rook’s altered function key. She heard Zora land in the aisle, but finished her recording before facing her sister.

Zora stood stock still aside from the steady dripping. Her arms extended into frozen wings to either side. Only her face moved, and the expressions that stretched and twisted for Murray’s attention nearly made her drop the hand-held. Zora’s eyebrows wiggled. She rolled her eyes pointedly upward, and her mouth turned into a downward arc.

“What’s wrong?” Murray whispered. She tried to keep the delight out of the words, but the wiggling macro-plankton still clutching at Zora’s long hair distracted her. She almost managed not to giggle.

“Mmmmmmuuurrr-ur.” Zora hummed her name without moving her lips.

“Oh, all right.” Murray clipped the hand-held to her belt and reached for the nearest plankton. “Just hold still.” She pried the feelers from a tendril carefully and tossed the crustacean back into its tank. “I told you to put your hair up, Zor.” She extracted a second creature, working her way around Zora’s head and ensuring that all the plankton returned to their swarm.

“I hate your plan,” Zora snarled.

“It got us through the scan didn’t it?”

“Maybe.” Zora stomped her feet and shook the last droplets from her hair. “I think those tour tarts remembered us.”

“Maybe.”

“And your little sea friends were shocking the crap out of me.”

“It’s how they interact with their environment.” Murray scanned for reception and pressed the broadcast button. “I think it’s sort of pleasant.”

“What? What are you doing?”

“Transmitting a message.”

“To who?”

“To my favorite radicals. Come on, Zor.” Murray headed toward the glowing exit sign without looking back. Her hand-held beeped softly, transmitting her footage of the Sillius in a repeating loop.

“Are you serious?” Zora caught up with her, and they slipped out the exhibit door together. Stars adorned the sky overhead, and the paths that wound through Zander’s little illegality lay deserted and quiet.

“Yeah.” Murray stopped by the fake boulder where they’d stashed Zora’s pack and waited. “Of course I’m serious. Have you seen the animals in this place?”

“Yeah,” Zora nodded. She pulled her bag from the bushes and checked inside. “I just didn’t realize how nasty you could be,” she said.

“He deserves it. You got the charges?”

“All there.” Zora slung the pack up on her shoulder and grinned. “Sure your metal man can get us out of here when the shit hits the fan?”

“I think he can do just about anything,” Murray said. She looked to either side and then darted down the pathway toward the slug exhibit with Zora at her heels. They hugged the rock wall, following it to the edge of the courtyard where Zander’s patrons crowded during daylight hours to see the rarest mollusks in the galaxy.

“You know,” Zora stopped at Murray’s shoulder, and they both leaned around to examine the open area. “I never realized how kinky you are.”

“What?” Murray watched a red light drift in a line beyond the edge of Neela’s pen. The steady hum of the sonic emitters buzzed in the background.

“First the electric shock thing, and now the android fetish,” Zora said. “You’re starting to worry me, Mur.”

“Can it, Zor. I think that’s a bot.” Murray squinted toward the hovering light. “It’s patrolling the paths.” She checked behind them and then turned back to the courtyard.

“Yeah,” Zora said. “Can we dodge it?”

“Maybe.” The light turned at the edge of the pit and started down the next side. “If it moves on.” She willed it to move on. If the hover bot had been assigned to the slug enclosure, her plan was pretty much useless. She watched it float under a light pole, noted the cylindrical body, the laser scanners, the stunner muzzle. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” she whispered.

“No,” Zora said. “It’s leaving--look.”

The bot hit the courtyard and made a right turn, veering up the pathway toward the string of exhibits that led to the shuttle bays. Murray let out a long breath.

“Come on.” Zora tugged at her sleeve. “I want to check on Neela.”

Zora sprang from cover and ran into the open. She had little choice but to follow, stole a final peek at the spot where the bot had disappeared before hauling ass after her sister. As she ran, she imagined the stunner beam, exploding from behind the curve of simulated rock wall, clipping her across the legs and sending her to her face against the pavement. Murray had never been stunned before, and she didn’t feel like trying it tonight.

She skidded the last ten feet, slammed into the half wall around the cage and dropped into a squat beside Zora. She waited to catch her breath. Her heart raced. Beside her, Zora stood up and leaned out over the pit.

“Neela?” she whispered.

“Zor,” Murray’s chest hurt. “We need to get the charges set.”

“I can’t see her.”

“Zor!” Murray tugged on the nearest leg. “Down.”

“Sorry.”

“Listen.” She waited for Zora to squat beside her. “We need to get the charges in place on all three shacks. Then you can…”

“neep?”

“Then you can get Neela’s attention before we blow…”

“Neep?”

“Before we blow the…”

“Did you hear that?”

“No. Listen to me, Zor. Focus.”

“NEEP!”

“Crap.”

Zora stood up. Over her head, Murray could see two bowling ball-sized cat’s eyes. They waved above the edge of the pit on thick pink stalks.

“Neela!” Zora swung an arm around the nearest appendage.

“NEEP!”

“Shhh. Zora!” Murray stood up, dodging under a flailing eye stalk. “Keep her quiet, Zor. We have to…”

“NEEP, NEEP, NEEP!”

The slug waved its eyes over the rim, dragging Zora back and forth and bellowing into the night. Murray turned to the courtyard in time to see the red light drift back into view.

“Zora,” she hissed and pulled on her sister’s clothing. “Zora!”

“Neep!”

The security bot swung out from behind the rock barrier. Zora let go of her pet and dropped into a slimy crouch beside Murray.

“Neep.”

The night echoed with Neela’s joy. The red light started in their direction. Murray decided she hated her plan as well.

“Zora,” she said. “Set the charges and blow the sonic emitter.” She pulled the silver device from her ear and snatched up Zora’s hand, pressing it into her palm. “Take this. Call for Rook as soon as you have Neela free.”

“What?”

“Set the damn charges and get Rook down here.”

“What are you doing? Mur?”

Murray stood up. She took a deep breath. “Just get her loose.” She stared at the approaching bot. “And if you can get her to do her little fire trick, it might be a good idea.” She took a step away from the cage.

“Murray!” Zora squealed behind her. “Where are you going?”

Murray sighed. She’d never been stunned before. “I’m going to cause a distraction,” she said and marched out across the courtyard.

Next Episode

Episode Twenty-One: Operation Macro-Plankton

2010-04-16T13:02:00.000-07:00

“You think you can modify it?” Murray poked at the silver device and frowned.

“It’s a simple design,” Rook said. He leaned over the narrow table, bringing his shoulder into light contact with hers. “I believe I can manage it.”

“I suspected as much.” The ship’s common room didn’t exactly qualify as expansive, but she was pretty sure the walls used to be farther apart. Someone may have turned up the temperature as well. “Did your scans pick up the emitters?”

“No.” He reached across the table and tugged at the paper schematic that Iggy’s men had provided. “This is the best we have, I’m afraid. And most of the sheds you indicated are listed as maintenance facilities.” He tapped the place Murray knew now housed their stolen Space Slug. The schematic, however, labeled the enclosure as containing Sand Bears.

“I’m sure the Emperor’s data was correct at the time of the scan.” Murray tilted her head a fraction to watch his expression. His metal lips pressed into a serious line, and he nodded.

“Agreed.”

“And I figure the sonic emitters have to be in one of these three.” She tapped the likely sheds with one finger. “So we’ll just have to check them all.”

“Yes. Unfortunately.” His silver fingers tapped a little rhythm on the table, sending vibrations across to her palms, up her arms. “I don’t like this plan,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Murray smiled down at the map. “But we need you in the ship,” she said. “Someone has to get our asses out of there once we’ve sprung Neela.”

He didn’t answer, but the whirring in his chest intensified.

“Are you sure you can get past the…”

“I’ll get in,” he said. “That part doesn’t worry me.”

It didn’t worry Murray either. The android had managed to pull off one miracle after another, and she took his success at this little adventure as a given. She doubted very much that he’d disappoint her. “What about this?” She picked up her hand-held computer. “Can you tweak this as well?”

“You sure you want to go through with that part?”

“I’m sure. You should have seen it in there.” She scowled at the memory of filthy cages, skin stretched too tightly over rib cages. “Besides, it might provide enough of a distraction to help you get past any planetary defenses.”

“If they respond to your broadcast.”

“Right.” Murray held the computer out for him. “If.” They had to respond. Some of the macro-plankton species in that wing were not only protected, they were full-out classified.

“About the scanners,” Rook started. His hand closed around the device, but as he took it from Murray’s grip, his other arm slid up, his other hand settled against the small of her back. “Are you sure about the plankton’s field?”

“Y-yeah.” Murray found the edge of the table and drove her fingers against the plastic. “They’ll block the scanners. The bio-electric interference in a cloud that size can’t…be…”

“Doctor Murray?” He whispered in a tone that did not come with standard programming.

“Hmm?” She stared holes in the table.

“Hey, Guys!”

Murray’s head snapped up almost as quickly as Rook’s hand fell away from her waist. Zora stood in the common room doorway. She had one hand on the wall, the other on her hip and an expression on her face that Murray really didn’t care for.

“Whatcha doin’?” Her eyebrows raised even higher. Her smile twisted.

Murray was vaguely aware that she should be speaking, but her throat suddenly clenched against her. A wash of panic shivered through her mind. The silence seemed fairly damning, even to her ears.

“Did you get the explosives sorted out?” Rook said. It sounded harsh, blurted, ringing against the metal walls.

“Yeah,” Zora said. “I’m all packed.” Her grin never faltered.

“Well,” Rook shifted beside Murray, he raised the hand-held and brandished it a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll get right on this, then.”

“Thank you,” Murray managed. When he took a step away, her spine relaxed. “That will be a big help,” she said.

“Great,” he said. He rounded the table and headed for the door. “Good. No problem.”

Murray watched him leave. When he reached the doorway, Zora slid aside and stepped further into the room. She never glanced in his direction. The look was all for Murray’s benefit.

When Rook vanished into the hallway, Murray dropped her eyes pointedly back to the schematic. She tapped at the sheds and squinted at the labels. Zora cleared her throat, and Murray ran a finger across the pathway that led to the Aquatics wing. Zora’s steps clicked across the room, stopping opposite Murray. A well manicured hand appeared against the schematic, the crimson fingers tapping out a different rhythm. Murray sighed and looked up.

“Whoa,” Zora said.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously, Wow.”

“Shut up, Zor.”

“Were you two just…”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Murray sighed again. She stared at Zora, at the red hair pulled into a tight updo, at the makeup, the tight black jumpsuit. Even incognito, Zora looked like a starlet. “I’m sure,” she said.

“Because it might be good for…”

“Stop it.”

“I’m just saying. You’ve been really tense lately.”

“He’s an android, Zor.”

“So what? Everybody’s doing it these days.”

Murray frowned. “What?” she said. “Have you?”

“God no.” Zora grinned. “I have some standards.”

Murray growled and pressed her palm against her forehead where a tiny throbbing had set up roost. She imagined the steady stream of aliens that qualified as “standards” in Zora’s book—no androids though, that would just be weird.

“Listen,” she snarled without meaning to. “We need to go over this again.”

“Good,” Zora said. “We don’t have time to fart around with your sex life, Mur. “Neela needs us.”

“The plan,” Murray said through her teeth. “Is all set.”

“I’m still a little fuzzy on the beginning,” Zora said. She turned and rested one hip on the table, lifted her hand and examined the painted nails. “I don’t get how your water bugs are going to keep us from showing up on the scans.”

“The bio-electricity will mask out signatures,” Murray said. She’d been intentionally vague about the details as far as the macro-plankton went.

“But how?” Zora frowned and looked across the table at her.

She wasn’t going to like it. Murray’s smile stretched wider. She stifled it just short of a smirk, folded her hands together and stared back at her sister.

“I’ve got it handled,” she said. Her plan was brilliant in that respect, and Zora wasn’t going to like it one bit.

Next Episode

Episode Twenty: The Exhibits

2010-03-31T08:01:00.000-07:00

The thirteen, Giant Teringian Beetles didn’t look happy. Neither did the Shadow Cats from the second moon of “Eclipsis.” Murray had never heard of Eclipsis, but the pair of felines sulking in the rear of this particular filthy enclosure looked an awful lot like ordinary Venusian house cats to her. She scowled at the detritus littering the cage bottom, furrowed her brow at the gunk stuck in the cracks around the window and silently cursed Zander’s evil hide.

“Come on, Mur.” Zora whispered near her ear and tugged on the loose sleeve covering Murray’s arm. “We’re losing the crowd.”

She let Zora drag her down the hall in the wake of their fellow patrons. Zander had brilliantly lined the shuttle port corridor with “preview exhibits.” They hadn’t even reached his zoo yet, and Murray felt the first stirrings of rage tug at her. The creatures here, at least in the hallway, suffered from poor nutrition, lack of sanitary conditions, and general depression. To her mind, Zander’s Xeno-Zoological Adventure needed to be put out of commission—permanently.

She dragged her feet a little, examined the following cages as they wound down a subtle ramp to the port’s wide, double doors. Not only did they need to rescue their slug, Murray thought, they needed to rescue the whole damned zoo. She looked to see if Zora had reached the same conclusion, but her sister’s gaze remained fixed on the crowd from their shuttle. She picked up speed, and Murray was forced to focus on her steps to keep from tripping over her huge coat.

“Slow down,” she hissed. “We need to…”

They reached the rest of the group just as someone up front pushed open one of the doors. The odor that slid in from the other side stopped even the most eager of the patrons from diving immediately through. A collective groan wandered around the throng.

Murray heard Zora gasp in front of her. Her hand flew to cover her nose, but the stench of too many creatures in too little space would not be denied. She tried not to gag on it. The running lights along the hallway gave out to the brilliant planetary atmosphere as the bravest of their fellows shoved the doors all the way back. In silent agreement, the press surged forward, seeking the larger space outside in hopes that the stench might be more bearable in the open.

They flowed into a circular patio, ringed with high, synthetic rock cliffs and hemmed in at either opening by puffy velvet ropes. The patrons milled about inside the area while a pair of thinly smiling humanoid women waved for their attention.

“Nice outfits,” Zora said. Her voice held no trace of sarcasm despite the lack of material in each of the women’s dresses. The khaki, adventurer-themed ensembles ended high up on each shapely thigh and swooped low over each well sculpted breast.

Murray grunted and waited for the group to quiet enough to hear the women’s’ instructions. The pair had produced a couple of primitive looking baskets from behind a synth-bush and, as the crowd converged on them, they began to distribute the contents among the patrons.

Their shuttle mates dispersed through the ropes in a slow, chattering stream. The area cleared quickly and their busty tour guides finally plucked two tiny, metal devices from the basket for Murray and Zora.

“Enjoy your visit,” Zoo Bimbo on the left said.

Her partner pantomimed installing the device for Zora, who stared at the woman as if she’d grown a fifth breast.

“You put it in your ear,” Murray said. “It’s a radio.”

“That’s right,” Zoo Bimbo agreed. “We’ll collect them at the end of your visit.”

“In case we try to hide out?” Zora asked. She still eyed the radio suspiciously.

“Of course not.” The tour guides both laughed.

“I’m sure they scan the premises in case anyone gets left behind,” Murray said. She snaked her arm through Zora’s and tried to pull her away from the khaki-clad duo. “Come on, Zor. We don’t want to miss anything.”

“Right,” one of the guides answered. “We do.”

Murray didn’t like her tone. She tugged harder on Zora’s arm. “Thanks!” She smiled at the women and levered Zora away from them. “Come on. I want to see the planktons.”

She didn’t look back until they’d rounded the rock wall. Thin pathways wound through the artificial canyon, and they stood at a fork in the road. A rickety stake at the center held an arrow that pointed downhill, away from the shuttle port and the suspicious guides. Murray pushed Zora in that direction.

“Ouch. Lay off, Mur.”

“What happened to not being conspicuous?”

“Huh? They wanted me to put this in my ear.”

“So what?” Murray stopped walking and pointedly installed her own device.

“It’s really unattractive,” Zora said.

“Just put it on.” Murray growled and headed down the path. The rest of the group had drifted far enough ahead of them that the only sound in the air was a soft humming. The distant sun warmed the planet enough to be pleasant, and the horrid scent had either dissipated or Murray had gotten too used to it to notice.

It this hadn’t been a covert operation, if the animals imprisoned here hadn’t been so miserable, she might have found the visit relaxing. As it was, her brain chewed on one of many impossible ideas for total Zoological shut-down.

“There has to be a way,” she mumbled. “We can’t just let him get away with it.”

“What are you saying?” Zora pushed up beside her. “You keep muttering under your breath.”

Murray stopped walking and turned toward her sister. She raised one finger, was about to repeat herself, when Zander’s voice shouted in her ear.

“Welcome!” The radio device squealed. “To Zander’s Xeno-Zoological Adventure.”

“Ugh,” Murray said. “It’s him.”

“What? Who?” Zora looked to either side of them, as if the bushes concealed an ambush.

“Just put the damned radio in your ear,” Murray said. “It figures he’d use his own voice.”

In her ear, Zander continued his welcome message, announcing the new wing in the aquatics exhibit and building in pitch to a fanfare finish—the zoo’s exclusive, breeding pair of Space Slugs. Zora got her radio working just in time for the last bit. She glowered in Murray’s direction.

“Come on, Zor.” They followed he path and Zander’s continual directions until the fake cliffs fell away and the largest portion of the zoo grounds spread out in front of them.

Murray didn’t need the recording to know where the slug exhibit stood. She didn’t need the huge, waving banners that some idiot had hung every ten feet—each depicting a pair of cat’s eyes atop two waving stalks below the word “NEEP.” She didn’t even need to see the crowd, twenty deep, all bustling for a better view of the the enclosure. She could have found Neela blindfolded. Anyone could have. The steady, teeth-rattling hum of the sonic emitters would have led the way.

“Shit,” Zora said.

“Yeah.”

They merged into the back of the crowd. Zora bounced up onto her toes every few seconds and craned over the masses. Murray scanned the buildings around the huge pit where she could only assume Neela and the other slug waited for their admirers. Shoulders bumped her from both sides, and an elbow gouged at her on more than one occasion. She suspected at least one of the latter had been intentional.

“I can’t see anything,” Zora complained.

Murray ignored her and picked out at least three smaller buildings, any of which might house the sonic emitters. She sighed and looked down in time to catch a flash of metal. Someone’s foot shifted, and the item danced out of view again.

“Zora!” Murray shuffled closer to her sister. “Keep me from getting trampled, okay?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just folded her knees and slid to a crouch amidst the sea of legs. Squinting, she leaned to either side and scanned the ground. The glint came again, and she dove, half crawling and half crab-walking around a tall leather boot. Her hand reached out. Her fingers brushed metal at the same moment a child’s voice started wailing.

“I don’t know!”

Murray stood up. She found Zora standing with both arms wide, trying to keep their little pocket of space as clear as possible.

“Where did you drop it?” A woman’s voice chastised the child. “How could you drop it?”

Murray’s hand slid into her jacket pocket. She nodded to Zora and took a step away from the Slug Exhibit. “We’re leaving,” she said. “I want to check out the aquatics wing.”

“What?” Zora followed her out of the crowd before putting her hands on her hips. “We haven’t seen Neela yet.”

“I know.” Murray looked back over her shoulder. “We’re not going to either.” There problem wasn’t slugs any longer. Murray had bigger fish to fry.

“Are you insane?”

“I need to look around the aquatics wing,” she said. Her hand found the tiny ear piece nestled safely in her pocket. She suspected Rook could modify it. Hell, she’d bet good money he could do it. One of those sheds had to house the emitters. If not them, then one of the nearby buildings would.

“Mur!” Zora grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. “Hello! Earth to Murray.”

“We’re nowhere near Earth,” Murray said. She smiled and patted the device she’d stolen. “And I think I have a plan.”

Next Episode

Episode Nineteen: Reconnaissance

2010-03-21T15:41:00.000-07:00

Zora took the apology a lot better than she’d expected. Murray nodded and watched the station’s departure board scroll past. The shuttle they needed ran every twenty minutes, carrying visitors to Zander’s slightly-less-than-legal attraction. The line, that continued to grow as she waited next to her sister, said the bastard was doing a pretty good business despite the zoo’s status.

“He must pay the station a pretty penny to look the other way,” she whispered in Zora’s direction. “This isn’t exactly covert.”

“Neither are you.” Zor had miraculously changed back into “tart mode.” She wore a metallic mini-dress, and her hair looked immaculate despite the lack of nanites. She frowned at Murray’s clothes. “You should have worn what I picked out for you.”

“That outfit, was definitely NOT covert.”

“Yeah, but nobody would have ever guessed it was you.” Zora gave her a wicked look, one that dared her sister to argue. When Murray didn’t take the bait, she switched her attention to the wall beside them and moaned. “Man, I could use an Earth Burger about now.”

Murray tugged the wide-brimmed hat lower over her face before turning to catch the billboard Zora examined. The restaurant ad flickered and an IRC banner replaced it. The company’s slogan scrolled across the bottom of the frame in large, metallic letters: building you, a new future. Murray snorted. Right, unless you’re one of their cast-off clones.

“What do you say, Mur?” Zora continued.

“About what?”

“Lunch at Jeb’s.”

“Zor, we’re nowhere near Jebezel’s.” Murray folded the over sized jacket across her chest and tried to disappear inside it. The crowd waiting to visit Zander’s Xeno-Zoological Adventure just kept expanding around them. She shifted her weight to the other foot and scanned the milling aliens. “And we’re sort of in the middle of something, remember?”

“Duh, Mur. I meant after.” Zora tossed her hair in a gesture that put Murray at ease. Ever since they’d patched things up, the old, familiar Zora had reared her head again. “I’m guessing we may want to get as far away from here as possible, anyway.”

“Good point. Fine. I’m sure I’ll be ready for a lousy cup of coffee by then.”

“Yeah, and maybe you can do something about Rook while we’ve got some down time.”

“What?” Murray cringed. She hadn’t quite found the opportunity to apologize to her android yet.

“You know what . He’s sweet on you.”

“You’re delusional,” Murray said. She looked around the crowd again. Maybe the guard would spot them before they got to the shuttle bay. Maybe they’d get arrested and put in separate cells. “I don’t know…”

“Yes you do,” Zora said.

“I don’t want to discuss this.”

“Fine. But discuss it with him, okay? I’m getting sick of listening to his moping.”

“I’m sure he’s not. Wait, what?”

“Nothing.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“Zora.” Murray tapped her foot and tried to adopt an intimidating stance, but the huge coat muffled the effect. “Tell me what he said.”

“Hey,” Zora said. “We’re next. Come on.”

She might have argued, but the line surged forward, pushing them along toward the tall shuttle bay doors. They flowed through the gap in the thick steel, washed along with the other anxious zoo patrons, and stumbled to a halt beside the ramshackle vehicle waiting inside.

“I thought they retired that model,” Murray said. She brushed at the debris clinging to her jacket hem. “Zora?”

Her sister stood frozen and staring at the zoo shuttle. The hull looked like paper that had been wadded up and then smoothed out again. Permanent creases laced across the metal between obvious scorch marks. She shivered, but knew it wasn’t the condition of the craft that held Zora’s attention.

“Murray?” Zora spoke without moving her mouth, and her eyes never left the vehicle’s side where someone with little talent had slapped a painting of Neela directly under the words: The Galaxy’s Last Living Space Slugs.

“Yeah?”

“It says slugs.”

“Right.”

“With an ess, Mur. It says slugs with an ess.”

“Maybe we should get on.” They were holding up the line for real now, and the grumbles behind them drifted rapidly away from civil. “Keep moving.”

Zora moved, climbed the loading ramp and took a seat near the doors. Murray settled into the padded couch beside her and immediately searched for the passenger restraints.

“You knew about this?” Zora’s whisper managed to sound like a snarl.

“My restraints are broken,” Murray said.

“Did you know he had another slug, Mur?”

“He might have mentioned it. Do you have a lap restraint?”

“You didn’t think to tell me?”

“You haven’t exactly been talking to me. I’m surprised Rook didn’t…”

“The android knew about it?”

“And since you two are so chatty now, I figured he’d have…”

“What’s the matter, Mur.” Zora secured her own, fully functioning restraints and made an evil face at Murray. “Are you jealous?”

“This thing is a death trap.” Murray gave up on her belt and pulled the shoulder harness lower over her coat. Without the lap strap the thing might as well have been around her throat. As she reached up to unsnap it, the shuttle engines hummed to life and the bench tilted sharply to the side. “They can’t have a license to fly this heap.”

“I doubt they’re worried about that,” Zora said.

Her restraints held her in the upright position. Murray, on the other hand, nearly fell off the bench as the thrusters groaned and lifted the shuttle off the pad. She used the loose lap strap for leverage and just managed not to choke on her shoulder harness.

This wasn’t going to work. She pulled on the frayed strap and tried to get upright again. They’d never get in and out of this place without getting killed—even without a giant mollusk up their sleeve. They’d get shot. They’d get caught. She frowned. Shot would be better. The last thing she wanted was to see the Martian Fox again.

She contemplated bailing. They’d visit the zoo, and Zora would see how impossible it was. She could convince her to let him keep Neela. Maybe Neela was happier here, anyway. Maybe she’d rather stay with another Space Slug. It had to be better for the species, right? That was the angle to use, the welfare of the creature. She’d just have to show Zora how happy her pet was here--with the other slugs, with Zander.

The ship lurched to the side again, and she glanced over to where Zora stared out the nearest window. Please, Murray prayed, let the bloody slug be happier here.

Next Episode

Episode Eighteen: The Slug One

2010-03-08T07:39:00.000-08:00

“I do not want to know what you did for him.” Murray tilted her head, craning to see the top of the ship. It nearly brushed the hangar ceiling, towering over the smaller vessels in the surrounding bays. “Why is it so big?”

Zora snorted and pushed by her, marching up the angled ramp as if she owned it—which--apparently, she did. She’d chosen to speak to Murray only when unavoidable, and then only in single word sentences.

“This ship,” Rook said. He stood beside her on the hangar floor and had continued to pointedly forgive Murray her transgressions. She didn’t know which of them was annoying her the most. “Has a cargo bay large enough to accommodate Neela comfortably.”

“Right.” She nodded and frowned at the hull, sporting its share of rust and more than a few dents. “For when we rescue her.” She stood on tiptoe and tried to read the letters stenciled on the side of the vessel that would designate its model, affiliation and age. Before she could see more than another spattering of rust, Rook took her by the elbow and steered her onto the ramp.

“We’ve had your things loaded already,” he said, playing the tour guide and, quite obviously, keeping her busy and away from Zora.

Murray frowned but let him guide her through the ship’s ample hallways, impressed despite herself. There were quarters for half a dozen crew members as well as a galley or common area—more than most private vessels could boast.

She figured they’d put themselves a little too far in the Emperor’s debt for comfort. Neither of her companions would listen to her theories about Ignatius; however, and she’d grudgingly dropped the subject. Still, as her footsteps rang out a hollow rhythm through the ship’s interior, she couldn’t help but think of the vehicle’s origin.

“What about a crew?” She asked Rook. “This vessel must require at least…”

“Most of the systems are automated,” he said. He opened a metal door and gestured for her to enter the room beyond. “Under normal conditions, I should have little trouble piloting her on my own.”

“What about non-normal conditions?” She stepped into the quarters and looked around. “We’re still planning on sneaking into an illegal zoo and stealing back our forty foot Gastropod, right?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him. He didn’t exactly grin, but the metallic mouth twitched in a way that she’d describe as amused on any biological humanoid. It looked good on him—genuine—and she marveled at his programming for the thousandth time.

“What’s this then?” She waved an arm at the pack lying on the slim bunk. She’d assumed the room was hers, but the pack and the blast pistol beside it gave her second thoughts.

“Your pack,” Rook said. He stepped inside the room, which barely accommodated both of them. “The Emperor has provided supplies and weapons.”

Murray could almost hear the “may he live in splendor…” hanging on the end of the sentence. She’d had about enough of Ignatius worship from the clones, and now her android—Rook—had apparently joined the man’s disciples.

“Huh,” she said. “That was nice of him.” Her lab coat hung on the wall. Though still a bit tattered, it looked newly laundered. When she flipped open the canvas pack, she found her hand-held computer resting on top of the gifted supplies. As far as she knew, those items were the only two in the room that qualified as “her things.”

She picked up the pistol and turned it over, examining the weapon in a fashion she hoped didn’t make it too obvious she’d never held one before. It felt different than she’d expected, lighter but also more sinister in her hands. Keeping the barrel safely pointed toward a wall, she lifted the gun to shoulder height and experimented with sighting down the barrel.

“Doctor Murray.” Rook stepped even closer, and their shoulders brushed. “I believe you’d be more comfortable around…” He leaned in and his hands covered hers. The smooth, metal fingers flexed, and the gun lowered until her elbows bent into forty-five degree angles. “here,” he finished.

He was right. The posture took the weight, or the tension, off of her shoulders. Holding the gun at this level almost felt natural. So did his hands, she realized—warm and nearly as soft as skin. She’d expected cold, cold metal and a lack of…something. The room, her room, had not been designed to hold two people.

She cleared her throat, and his hands dropped away. He stepped back into the threshold.

“You shouldn’t need to use it,” he said. “I believe Zora and I can handle the rescue.”

“Does she have a gun too?” Murray didn’t like the idea at all.

“Yes.” He turned in the doorway, and she caught sight of the grin again. “But I’m confident I can keep her from using it inside the ship.”

She smiled, but didn’t mean it. She’d never seen Zora quite this pissed off before, and she knew the woman better than anyone. Rook’s confidence aside, Murray didn’t feel the least bit reassured.

***

“Slug One, what’s your status?”

“We’re ready to go,” Zora tapped her fingers against the side of her chair and leaned over the padded arm to peek around Rook’s elbow. “Tell them we’re ready.”

“Holding our designated orbit,” Rook said. “All systems check out for departure.”

“Tell them we don’t have time…”

“Emperor Ignatius Superius I wishes to bid you a personal farewell,” the clone speaking over the com announced. “May you remember his generosity, even as you leave his presence.”

Murray rolled her eyes and watched Zora relax back into her chair’s restraints. For the Emperor, she could wait, apparently. May he live in self-imposed glory amidst his slave followers with his freakish harem and never get a wart. She snorted, and Zora’s head spun in her direction.

“You have a problem, Mur?” The tone said, don’t have a problem. It said, keep your mouth shut, traitor.

“Yeah, I have a problem.”

“Doctor Murray.” Rook’s voice purred, soothing, also silencing her.

“I have a big problem,” she continued undeterred. “My sister and my friend have been completely hornswaggled by a megalomaniac with an alien fetish who thinks he can play God to a bunch of mentally challenged, clone zealots!”

The last word echoed through the cabin for a few seconds. When it stopped reverberating, Zora nodded and turned back to Rook. “Are you sure I can’t shoot her?” she asked.

“What is the matter with you?” Murray’s nerves couldn’t take any more weirdness from either of them. “Zora!” She unbuckled her safety restraint and stood up. “You’re acting like that nut job is…”

“Shut up!” Zora flew out of her chair, unbuckling in a single sweep of her hand and closing the gap between them. They stood nearly nose-to-nose in the center of the cabin. “You shut up about him,” Zora snarled.

“Control,” Rook’s voice hummed in the background. “This is Slug One. We are no longer clear.”

“Why?” Murray clenched her fists and dared her sister to swing at her with one arched eyebrow. “Why are you so smitten with this bastard?”

“I’m not...you don’t…God, Murray!” Instead of landing a right hook in Murray’s middle, Zora deflated. She dropped her aggressive stance and stepped backwards.

“The Emperor is waiting to address the crew,” the clone at Control spoke across the com.

“You are smitten with him,” Murray whispered. “Oh my god, Zora.”

“Can you ask him to hold on a minute?” Rook said.

“I’m not.” Zora shook her head. She stepped back again.

Murray’s jaw dropped. Her sister was lying—she knew her well enough to recognize the signs. Even so, she’d never seen Zora smitten with anyone, not even her string of bizarre fiancés. She looked—she looked terrible.

“You’re a mess,” Murray said. “Look at your clothes.” Not only were they wrinkled, they covered a substantial amount of Zora that usually remained bare. “You look like a nun and your hair…” She stared. Maybe this wasn’t Zora at all; maybe this was a clone impostor. “Why is your hair messy?”

Zora made a noise deep in her throat—a strangled, desperate growl—and Murray braced for impact. This was more like it. She could handle angry Zora, pouty Zora, primping Zora just fine. But instead of attacking, the pseudo-sister in front of her spun on her heel and ran for the exit.
That was it. She’d definitely been saddled with a clone replica of her sister. The evil Emperor had snatched Zora and replaced her with this whimpering, submissive…The impostor stopped at the edge of the hallway. She turned back over her shoulder.

“You know what, Mur,” she said quietly, not like Zora at all. “You can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Murray watched her leave, pretended it hadn’t felt like a punch in the gut. In truth, she’d have preferred the latter. She sighed, and turned to Rook. He played at inspecting the controls, as if he hadn’t heard a word, as if she hadn’t acted like a real bitch.

“Why is her hair messy?” she asked him.

“She traded her nanites for the ship,” he said.

Of course she had. The guilty knot in Murray’s stomach swelled. She’d assumed the worst, but damn it, that was Zora’s standard operating procedure. Just because this time she’d grown some scruples—did that make Murray the bad guy?

“Did you mean it?” Rook asked.

She’d managed to miss the thread of the conversation. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You said your sister and your friend had been hornswaggled.”

“Maybe hornswaggled was the wrong word.”

“I meant friend,” he said. “Did you mean it?”

God, she was the bad guy. She stared at him, remembered that she owed him a huge apology. “Of course I meant it,” she said.

“Sit,” he said, waving toward her vacant chair. “You need to read something.”

She obeyed automatically. She had little other options and no desire to continue on the outs with them. Her chair faced across the room, but Rook waved her toward the screen behind it. She swiveled around and examined the data he’d retrieved.

She read the headline twice before really looking at the article. “Unrepentant Philanthropist, Ignatius Mund, Rescues Yet Another Indigenous From A Fate Worse Than Death.” She scanned the article, noted the picture of the Emperor wearing a much more subdued suit and posing with what looked suspiciously like one of his “wives.”

Below the first, a second article read: Iggy Mund, Alien Savior, Wanted for Interference With Intergalactic Treaty. The parade continued as Murray scrolled down the screen. The final headline nailed her to the wall.

“IRC closes cloning facility.” She read it out loud. “President of famed cybernetics industry quoted: All IRC cloning operations have been discontinued. All samples have been destroyed.” She looked at Rook. “Samples?”

“The clones,” he said. “He bought them, at a considerable price, I expect.”

“If he hadn’t?”

“Disposed of.” Rook turned his chair to face her directly. “Doctor Murray,” he said. “If Gal-Fed knew about them, if they knew the IRC clones still lived…”

“I get it, Rook.” She knew Gal-Fed even better than she knew her sister. “She’s really in love with him, isn’t she?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess,” Rook answered.

Murray could. She knew the answer without confirmation. The hair thing, however, confused her. “Why did she trade her nanites?”

“I suspect for Neela’s sake.”

“She actually cares about the Slug?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “The people closest to us are the easiest to take for granted…and the quickest to surprise us.”

Murray got the distinct impression that he wasn’t just referring to Zora. She nodded, turned back to read more about the Emperor, It-looks-like-he-really-is-a-nice-guy-after-alls, long list of good deeds and tried as hard as she could not to feel like the biggest asshole in the universe.

Next Episode

Episode Seventeen: Guilty

2010-02-21T08:29:00.000-08:00

“Have you resolved the negotiations for a ship?” Rook’s metallic voice hummed from across the room.

“Yeah,” Zora answered. “It’s done.”

“What?” Murray sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “What’s done?”

“How long should it take us to get there?” Zora pointedly ignored her. She leaned over their room’s com and tapped at something on the screen. “Iggy says he’s got the place under heavy guard.”

“Except for the tourists,” Rook said. He had the courtesy to glance in her direction.

“Who?” Murray stood up. “Who has? What are you guys talking about?”

“Right,” Zora continued without flinching. “Except for the tourists.”

“Doctor Murray,” Rook said. He took a step away from the com and waved toward the table, where a bowl of something that looked hot waited. “Perhaps a meal would help alleviate any of the chemical’s residual effects.”

“No thanks.” Her stomach already churned dangerously in response to the smell coming from the food. “The nap did the trick.”

He shrugged and turned back to Zora and the two of them examined whatever data they’d been discussing. She stared at their backs and frowned. Zora was upset about the slug—Neela. Right. Rook… She sighed and put her head in her hands. She’d blown Rook off to spend an evening with the slug-stealing lunatic.

She peeked between her fingers at the android. She owed him an apology, would do it first thing, as soon as they had a moment alone. Until then, she’d just have to live with the cold-shoulder treatment.

“We can’t just walk in.” Zora said. “I’m guessing he’ll remember you.”

“For certain. You might be able to sneak in, at least get us some recon.”

“Recon?” Murray stood up and stretched the kinks out of her spine. “What are you two planning over there?”

“Never mind.” Zora didn’t even glance away from the screen. “You can stay here.”

“I believe Doctor Murray should accompany us,” Rook said. “I’d prefer it if she came along.”

“Of course you do,” Zora snapped.

Murray bristled, but bit her tongue. They blamed her for this whole mess. Fine. But Zora had gotten them into enough trouble over the years that Murray figured she deserved at least a little leeway.

“Where are we going?” She asked Rook, made a point of keeping as much irritation out of her voice as possible.

Before either of them answered, the door bleeped. Zora punched the controls, and it slid open, allowing the Emperor Ignatius Superius I’m-not-such-a-nice-guy-after-all to enter. A pair of male clones followed him, wearing utility packs and carrying sleek, black blast rifles. Murray shuffled across to the com and skidded to a stop next to her android.

Beside her, Rook folded into a crisp, but unmistakable bow.

Ignatius approached the table and waved the clones forward. By the time they’d deposited the packs on the surface, Zora had joined them. The rifles were added the pile, and Zora picked one up, turned it over and held it up to her shoulder, sighting down the barrel.

“Nice,” she said.

“I’m not entirely comfortable sending you into danger.” The Emperor still did his best to sound genuine.

Murray snorted and felt Rook’s hand find her shoulder. Something about the touch discouraged any further comment.

“I can vouch for their safety.” The android’s voice sounded too formal, as if he took an oath and fully expected the words to bind his actions.

“Thank you.” Ignatius opened one of the utility packs while Zora swung the laser rifle around and pretended to know what she was doing. If she aimed directly at Murray a few times, it was probably coincidence. “All the information that I have on Zander’s operation has been downloaded to these.” He pulled out a slim data pad and touched the screen.

Zora put the gun down and leaned closer to the Emperor. She nodded, then looked up and waved in their direction. Rook’s hand fell away, and he joined the group huddled around the gear. They looked like rebels preparing for a terrorist act. Murray wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t care if Zora blamed her. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“I wish there was more I could do,” The Emperor said. “But Zander knows too much about things here, and I can’t risk the authorities…”

“We understand,” Zora said. She gave Ignatius her best, wide-eyed sincerity.

“Oh please.” Murray groaned. “Spare me. He’s probably in on it.”

“Mur.” Zora looked daggers at her. “Shut up.”

“No. I’m tired of this. He came right out and said he wanted Neela.” She made a point of using the proper name. “And according to Zander, this whole Emperor thing is…”

“Doctor Murray.” Rook didn’t exactly yell at her. But his voice didn’t usually echo like that either. “I believe this can wait. We’ve kept the Emperor from his affairs long enough.”

She shut up, but she didn’t like it. Murray didn’t know what sort of spell this Emperor had cast on her friends, but nobody was acting like they should anymore. She glared at Rook while Zora followed Ignatius the Enchanting to the door.

“Go easy on her, Zora,” the Emperor said in her defense. Somehow that irked her even more. “It wasn’t her fault.”

“Like hell it wasn’t.”

“Good luck.”

When the door shut, Zora walked right past her. She stopped at the table and helped Rook inspect the contents of the packs. Neither one of them spoke.

“What the hell is going on?” Murray shouted. She’d had about enough of this abuse.

“I’m going to kill you,” Zora said. “If we can’t sort this thing out and get Neela back, I’m going to kill you.”

Murray’s jaw dropped. Zora didn’t yell, she didn’t even pout. She seemed calm, in fact—too calm. And the matter of fact way she announced it gave Murray the shivers.

“Zora,” Rook said. “The Emperor is correct; Doctor Murray is not responsible for her actions while under the influence of the chemical.”

“What actions?” They were talking around her again. “What? What have I done?”

“I think she did it on purpose,” Zora growled.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rook waved Murray back toward the com and followed her to the screen. A star map filled the surface, but he tapped at the buttons and the picture shifted. The document that replaced it looked like some kind of cargo manifest. “This is a donation form,” Rook said. “It agrees to relinquish all rights to the designated creature—in this case, one female Space Slug—to Zander’s Xeno-Zoological Adventure.”

“A zoo?” Murray squinted at the document.

“More like a side-show,” Zora snapped.

The image had been scanned, no doubt by Ignatius’ spaceport agent clones, but a fuzzy and frightfully familiar signature graced to document’s bottom line.

“We believe he manipulated you into signing it,” Rook said. A wad of stone-cold guilt settled in Murray’s stomach.

Zora snorted and tossed her hair. “Like hell we do.”

Next Episode

Episode Sixteen: The Hangover

2010-02-05T20:01:00.000-08:00

The wind rushed through her head, beating at her eardrums and singing.

“Doctor Murray?”

She groaned and swatted it away.

“Doctor Murray.” It sounded a lot like her android.

“Bwa?” She opened her eyes on a field of green velvet. Soft…pillow…Zander’s room. She lifted her head.

“Doctor?”

“Rook?” A blur of metal slid past her as the room tilted. She pressed her eyes tight again and concentrated on the wind. Her temples throbbed.

“Doctor Murray, are you feeling all right?”

“No. No, I feel pretty liquid at the moment.” When she opened her eyes the second time, things solidified. His metal features stared down at her in an expression that definitely didn’t come with standard programming. “What?”

“It is very difficult for me to provide adequate protection when I’m not apprised of your location,” he said.

“Apprised of…” she blinked and the wind hushed. “Protection?” She tried to sit up, but her spine still felt like gelatin. “I…ungh.” Movement causes nausea--good to know.

“I believe that you’ve been poisoned,” Rook said. If he sounded glad about the fact, she had to be imagining it. “The secondary cartridge in this vaporizer contains a chemical that is known to produce…”

“Drugged?” Murray sat up and clenched her jaw against the urge to vomit. “He drugged me? That son of a…”

“It would appear he hasn’t violated your person,” Rook continued. “Or do you…”

“Don’t,” Murray snapped. “Not violated.”

“Good.”

She pressed her palms into her eye sockets and pushed back against the headache. As the loopy feeling subsided, her brain shifted gears, tossing fragments of memory her direction. They’d been talking about something for a long time. “Why drug me?” She glanced around the mound of pillows. She knew what he hadn’t been after, at least. She’d been more than willing. “What’s the point?”

“I suspect he was after something,” Rook said. He raised one silver eyebrow at her. “You can’t think of anything that he may have wanted? He didn’t mention anything?

Murray shook her head. The whole evening seemed like a floral smelling blur. She let Rook help her to her feet and leaned against his thick arm for support when the room bobbed and threatened to slide away again. She remembered vaping. Zander had added something—drugs, in hindsight—to the mix. They’d snuggled into the pillow nest and talked and talked.

“Have you seen him, then?” Murray tried to sound nonchalant. “This morning?”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” They climbed out of the pit and made their way toward the room’s door, Rook serving as a crutch when her legs failed to cooperate. “How did you find me, then?” She asked him as the panel slid open and he shuffled her out into the hallway.

“I scanned several sections of the palace before I recognized your vital signs,” Rook answered. “When you are feeling more like yourself, I’d like to make a more detailed identification record.”

“Right. Sure.” She frowned and walked beside him. How the hell did he scan for her vital signs?

“And his ship departed just before sunrise,” Rook said.

“Huh? Who?”

“The Emperor’s cousin.”

“Oh.”

His chest hummed quietly as they wound through the palace toward their own room. He might be scanning her right now. What else could he do? She frowned and tried to lean on him a little less, but the drug still lingered in her nervous system, and she had little choice but to use Rook for balance. Zander left in the middle of the night. She’d probably said something stupid. She’d probably told him some long, boring story about macro-plankton. She laughed and then cringed when Rook looked sharply at her. His mood hadn’t improved since dinner, apparently.

What had they talked about? She could almost see Zander’s lips moving. He had nice, thin, expressive lips. He’d been asking her questions about…

She stopped walking, but Rook’s forward progress drug her a few more feet before he realized it. His head swiveled around to face her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I think.” She could almost hear the conversation now, and she had the oddest feeling it had something to do with…

“You think?”

“It’s just that, I almost think he wanted…” Murray closed her eyes and tried harder. Zander had been intent on something, had stuck to the topic when she’d tried to change it. “I don’t know for sure,” she said. “But I’m thinking he kept asking about the slug.”

“Neela,” Rook said. “Her name is Neela.”

“Right. But he said…” She laughed out loud again. “I think he said he had one too.”

“The Emperor’s cousin has his own Space Slug?” It did sound ridiculous when he said it like that.

“Right. I know. Forget it.” Murray sighed and started walking again. “I mean, she’s the last one, right? And wouldn’t the Emperor know if his own…”

A squeal from the hallway ahead broke her train of thought and sent little daggers of pain through her brain. Murray groaned and leaned into her android again. Damn chemicals.

“Murray!” Zora’s voice hit a pitch somewhere near excruciating. “Oh thank GOD, Mur!” Zora came running toward them, a shimmery wave of red hair and silver fabric. Her arms gestured in wild patterns that made Murray close her eyes again for a second. When she opened them her sister stood within arm’s reach.

She wore a metallic miniskirt and top that barely kept her anatomy restrained. In keeping with the local custom, she’d donned a pair of orange, feathery wings and a tiara. Somehow, Zora made it look good.

“Listen, Zor.” Murray started. She didn’t need drama at the moment. She needed a nap, and a bath followed by another nap.

“Where have you been?” Zora grabbed her by the shoulders. “We didn’t know where you were.”

“I’m fine, Zor. I just…”

“Whatever.” Zora waved a hand in Murray’s face. She rolled her eyes before shifting immediately into a full blown pout that obviously had nothing to do with concern for her sister’s welfare.

“Fine,” Murray said. “I’m going back to the room.”

“No! Murray,” Zora whined. Her voice threatened to pitch upwards again. “It’s horrible!”

“What, Zora? What’s the matter now?” She tried to push past her, but between Rook’s bicep and one arching orange wing, she couldn’t move in either direction.

“She’s gone!” Zora howled.

A tiny knot of dread settled in Murray’s stomach. She peeked toward Rook, but didn’t quite meet his gaze. The sound of Zora sniffling sent little shivers along the back of her neck. She had to ask, didn’t she?

“Who’s gone?” she whispered.

“Neela!” Zora bawled. Her eyes stretched into giant saucers and big tears pooled in their wells. “Someone’s stolen my Slug!”

Next Episode