Do aliens dream of space operas? (Episode XIII)

-clop. Then silence. Then another clip. Then a scuffed clop.

Joe sensed Anne's body melt a little behind his. It felt good to be the man for a change, to stand guard before someone, to not run away. It also felt incredibly scary.

Another clip and the sounds stopped. The air was still and quiet. It was times like this that you'd hear all the whirring, creaking, and settling background noises that you'd otherwise ignore. But this time there was nothing. Just silence. It hurt Joe's ears, like a painful numbness.

Finally a clip, a clop, a clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop.

'There you are. I thought I heard someone.'

Anne's shocked face failed to change for some time. Until it was replaced by the widest grin Joe had ever seen.

'Connie!' shouted Anne.

'Connie,' said Joe, unsure how to react.

'Connie?' said the voice of Ridley, moving quickly into the warehouse. 'Connieeeee,' he yelled, acting as a PA system for the Rat's Nest.

'Yes,' said Connie, matter-of-factly, as if coming in from an evening stroll. 'Connie.'

'Connie,' said Isaac. 'I vas busy finding solutions to your capture.'

'I hear you've been very busy of late,' said Connie. 'Especially in that little room of yours.'

Isaac curled a smile. 'Ya,' he said.

'We warr just comin' to bust ya out,' said Shamus.

'Quite unnecessary.'

'Aye, so it seems,' said Shamus.

They were all there now, inventing questions in their minds as they formed an ad hoc semi-circle around Connie.

'Ya, how did you eshcape?' said Isaac.

'I know a few people. High up people. Nothing special.'

Nothing special?! Joe was already feeling let down. He needed to at least hear detailed stories with daring and intrigue. Not evasiveness. 'But how?' he said.

'That's not important right now,' said Connie. 'I've put you in danger. We need to be out of here before sunrise.'

The nervousness he felt when he'd heard the echo of her shoes wasn't so much fear of who it might be, or fear for his own safety, or, more importantly, Anne's safety; it was a fear of falling back into his past self. Despite making big changes, positive changes, to his character, he still felt on the brink of falling back into his old ways; as if he teetered on the precipice and one little nudge would end it all. After sensing Connie's presence he felt let down and empty, almost lost. The plot had given him purpose. There was a clear sight of a future. Now it was just whisked away. He'd never know if the plan would have worked out, if he'd been right.

Doubts are like little creatures with hundreds of arms that climb their way around your body until they completely cover you. He hoped he'd be able to push them down, at least until they were all truly safe. The people that is, not the doubts.

'Are they coming?' said Anne. Her voice was strong and objective once more. She seemed completely in control.

'They will be,' said Connie. 'But we've got some time. I know of a few places we can go, people we can trust. Though we might have to split up. It'll be much harder to find one or two of us than the whole group together.'

Ridley's eyes were darting to everyone as they spoke. He opened his mouth, about to speak, then closed it.

Joe pushed the metaphorical little creatures down to his waist and spoke up. 'OK, we can do this,' he said.

'Come on everybody!' blurted Ridley. 'You can't be serious. We've got a damn matter transporter and you're talking about crashing on friends' couches!? Here's an idea: why not use the damn thing and get out of here?'

Both of Joe's eyebrows raised.

'And go vere?' said Isaac.

'Anywhere! Wherever it takes us!! I'm sorry for using so many exclamation marks but I'm really fired up about this!!! I was waiting for someone to say something, anything, but I could tell you were just going to look down at your feet and shrug your shoulders a lot, then do whatever Connie wanted. No offence Connie.'

Connie shook her head, dismissing any offence.

'Come on guys,' continued Ridley. 'Come on Joe. We've explored this place, great, it's terrible, no problem, let's go somewhere else. Simple.'

Anne looked at Joe.

'I guess,' he said, slowly. 'I guess he has a point. I don't really like it here. The place is pretty backward. It doesn't exactly give me awe and wonder, like I hoped. Not only that: I don't know if you've noticed, but it's quite racist.'

You were always one of the sharper tools, Joe. A spade perhaps? Ah, I make me laugh.

Anne looked stunned. In an instant she had lost any trace of her staid expression. 'You don't like it here?' she said, quietly, almost to herself.

'We should all go,' said Ridley. 'Connie?'

'I can't,' said Connie. 'There are too many people here who need me. I can't just abandon them.'

'It's not abandoning,' said Ridley. 'It's living life. You need to take care of yourself, too.'

Connie shook her head. 'No,' she said, speaking in such a way that showed no room for a change of opinion.

'Tank?' said Joe. 'You wanna come?'

'I like it here at the Rat's Nest,' said The Tank.

'There won't be a Rat's Nest,' said Ridley. 'It's over. Kaputt. Niet. Done.'

The Tank thought to himself. The others could see the strain on his face as the small brain inside his large head swirled. 'I want to stay here. With Connie.'

'That's where we belong, too,' said Shamus. Micky nodded.

The noob looked over to Isaac. 'You know,' he said, 'I think I have to go.'

'Ya, OK,' said Isaac.

The noob frowned and said: 'I'd love to stay. You've taught me so much. I just feel like there'd be less opportunity of making things now that the Rat's Nest will go away.'

Isaac nodded blankly, not paying a lot of attention.

The noob decided to forge on, to fully explain his reasons. 'Besides, I came through the wormhole looking for adventure. I wanted to be the protagonist in some speculative fiction novel, to fight aliens and discover the universe. The thing about those characters is they don't outstay their welcome. They get in, do what they have to, and leave. That's why I need to do the same.' He seemed pleased with his little speech.

'Good choice, noob,' said Ridley.

'Phillip,' said the noob.

'What? I think you've gone all loopy, noob. My name's Ridley. Ridd-leeeeee.'

'No,' said the noob, louder. 'My name. It's Phillip.'

Ridley clasped Phillip's shoulder in a very manly way, like a knight showing new-found respect for a former adversary.

'Good to finally meet you Phillip, son of Phillip's father,' said Ridley. 'Go. Rest. You shall need your wits about you, for we rise at dawn, to claim what was ours of birthright.'

The others gave him confused glares. But that didn't stop him from continuing:

'Yes, my lieges, the battlements we assembled shall not go to waste. The king will know soon of our bravery. Minstrels shall sing canards in our name, long after our escape.'

The others continued to give him confused glares. Except Joe.

'You aren't suggesting we should continue the plan?' said Joe, secretly hoping he did in fact mean that. 'We've got Connie back. That was the point.'

'There were two aspects to the plan, loser,' said Ridley, moving expertly from poorly formed middle-aged rhetoric to his traditional classy dialogue. He stopped short of any further explanation for dramatic affect. He waited. Someone finally bit.

'You wanna blow up the Emperor?' said Shamus with a twinkle in his eye.

'Call it a going away present,' said Ridley.

'That's not such a bad idea,' said Connie. 'It would take them months to fully recover. And in the meantime, we could get ourselves better positioned.'

'And who knows,' said Anne, 'it might leave the door open for proper regime change.'

'Real change,' said Micky. 'Not just some fancy slogan.'

General agreement lead to plans which lead to actions which lead to the Rat's Nest working together one last time to punch a whole right through the O.L.'s. Oh, I could give you a blow-by-blow of the whole ordeal. I could elaborate on the debate over who should take the device to the guards *spit*, about who should go through the wormhole as faux fresh immigrants, about who should take the actual weapon into the room, but you'd probably get bored. Suffice to say there was plenty of action – so much that my fingers would hurt from typing it all. So I can't exactly give you that much detail since...you know...fingertips, etc.

OK, fine, there were explosions and lots of bits flying everywhere, none of which belonged to the bodies of our intrepid Rat's Nest inhabitants. There was even a cigar-puffing end where someone said:

Figure 13-1: 'I love it when a plan comes together.'

It was all done on quite a fast timeline, too, which would give them enough time to leave before the expected revenge attack.

Which is where we pick up our story once more, after the largest anti-climax in history, with Anne standing before Joe with a stolid expression.

'That went well,' she said.

'Better than I expected,' said Joe. 'Thanks again for, err, saving my life.' He raised a sooty and wrinkly forearm.

'Are you sure you don't want me to treat that?' she said.

'Nah, I'm tough. Bit of fire won't hurt anyone.'

'Mm,' she said absently. Her eyes darted in every direction but Joe's face. Eventually she said: 'How much longer till the big exit?'

'Just waiting on Isaac to calibrate the transporter. Apparently the more power you put in, the further it takes you. And the noob has been able to work out whether we'll land on a planet or just the vacuum of space. I'm hoping for the former.'

'Good,' said Anne.

'All done, laddie,' said Shamus in the archway. 'They're setting it up outside, away from anything flammable. Just in case.' He winked and left like a shot.

'Looks like we better say goodbye, then,' said Anne, looking up at Joe's eyes.

'What do you mean?' said Joe. 'You're coming too, right?'

'I can't,' said Anne. 'I can't just leave Connie. Not after what she's done for me.'

'Are you serious? She'll be fine. She has lots of burly blokes to take care of her.'

Anne lowered her eyes and, at length, closed them. 'The last time I went through a wormhole I had to fight for my life. I don't think I can do that again.'

'I'll be there with you this time,' said Joe, showing mucho bravado. He pulled her close to him, his arms around her lower back.

She looked up into his eyes. 'But grandfather was with me last time. And we got split up.'

'We won't get split up. I promise.' Joe's words were strong, but his voice still cracked. She couldn't possibly want to stay here, could she?

Anne looked up at him and quickly relented, following the plot as much as her heart. Then a thought struck her. 'Grandfather! What about grandfather? I can't leave without him.'

This is your chance, Joe. Have you grown enough to be a big man? Will you tell her the truth about her grandfather? Will you conveniently leave out the last words that you didn't actually hear? The ones that could have given this lovely girl some closure and made the grieving process easier? Oops, have I let the cat out the bag?

Will you make me a liar?

'I know it's hard,' said Joe, slowly, almost to himself. 'But...he would want you to leave now, to be safe. You've managed to survive so long without him and...he knows that. He knows what you've become, how strong and wise and...well, pretty amazing.'

Joe smiled at Anne with pursed lips. She looked back at him without expression. Joe wondered if he'd stuffed it all up. Maybe she would start asking questions, like how did he know all this?

He continued: 'I feel pretty lucky to have met you. All this time I've kind of fumbled through life, doing the least necessary to survive. But now I don't want to just survive. I want to really live. That's why I need to leave this place and take a jump through the wormhole. You make me want to strive for something better, to show that I really am someone. I'm...not quite there yet, but I will be. With you.'

She blinked. A small tear dropped to her cheek and she leant in to Joe, kissing his lips tenderly. He felt the warmth of her mouth as the coldness of her tear touched his face, becoming merged, something they both shared.

OK...that wasn't bad. Not quite the failure I was expecting. Still, we've been waiting since episode IV for the whole grandfather payoff, and that was it? Talk about a massive anti-climax.

Wait a minute, was this a bigger anti-climax than the skimmed over attack of the O.L.s from earlier in this episode? You be the judge:

Yes
No
Rumpelstiltskin
The spice must flow!
A strange game. The only winning move is not to play.
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'So will you come with me?' said Joe. 'Fight or flight?' He smiled warmly.

Anne couldn't help but smile back her response. 'Let me get my stuff together,' she said.

The wormhole wooshed into existence. The air around it felt thicker and a darkness fell into place.

Connie, Shamus, Micky, Isaac, and The Tank all stood at a respectful distance, perhaps in case of an emergency, which would suggest that “respect” == “not getting blown up”. Joe, Anne, Ridley and the noo...Phillip all stood brightly in front of the wormhole, like the holy quadra...quadry...like four horsemen of the apocalypse? Maybe I should avoid religious iconography. They looked more like inter-galaxy travellers or hitchhikers on their way to a new location, without the help of any guide.

'Good luck,' said Connie, formally.

'Pfft, we don't need luck,' said Ridley.

'Ba-bye boys and girls,' said Joe. Goodbye Connie. Goodbye Shamus, Micky. Goodbye Isaac. And Tank...I think I'll miss you most of all.' He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

The Tank looked back and, despite his great size, his imposing presence, his manly lack of emotions, he...certainly didn't cry if that's what you're expecting. Sheesh. Haven't I taught you anything?

If you managed to foresee that little switcharoo, consider me pleased with your progress young padawan. Now watch movies and read stories with that same eye to clichés. Don't let them get away with it! Evil face.

Isaac moved a step or two forward. 'I sink zis is yours, ya?' he said.

Phillip reverently took the circular piece of metal from Isaac's hand. He read the inscription on the back: All My Heart, All My Love, Always.

'Thank you,' said Phillip. He didn't need to say he'd treasure it or that it would remind him of the friendship they'd forged over such a short space of time, because that kind of thing is implied. I thought you were learning! A padawan you are not, it seems.

'That looks similar to my grandfather's watch,' said Anne.

'Oh, how interesting,' said Ridley, examining the timepiece in great detail. 'I wonder if this means that...we can stop gawking at useless crap and finally get out of here!'

Hmm, forget what I just said about clichés. I'm awesome! That's all you need to remember. Smiley face.

Joe took Anne's hand. 'You ready?'

'Yes,' she said.

'Scared?' he asked.

'Yes,' she said.

Joe chuckled. 'Same. But we'll be alright. I'm an old hand at this.'

They both stared at their future.

You know, I'm quite proud of the character you've become Joe. From someone who shies away from any responsibility to one who just blew up a government.

'Thanks, err, whoever you are,' said Joe.

'What?' said Anne.

'Nothing.' He smiled.

You're welcome. But who knows what will happen when you step through that wormhole? You might go back to being your old loser-y self. You might find that the stressful situation will find you crawling back to your corner, avoiding contact with everyone, even Anne.

Joe hesitated for a moment. Then an energy coursed through his being. 'No', he whispered. 'I've changed. I've grown up. And it feels good. Real good. There's no chance I'll go back to how I was. Wherever we end up.'

With that they all jumped through the wormhole.

No chance, you say? We'll see about that, little man. Winky face.

Episodes I-XIII are dedicated to Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett. Thank you.

THE END...or is it?




Yes, it is.

© 2013 Ben Safta

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Australia License

Do aliens dream of space operas? (Episode XII)

'So lets go over the plan holistically, make sure the bits fit.'

Joe stood in front of the assembled personnel. They were all quiet, attentive. He could hear the sound of his own voice, strong, without nerves. He also imagined hearing the Mission Impossible music (or something eerily similar yet far less copyrighted) playing over the top.

daaa daaaa
Da dada da
daaa daaaa.

He felt a surge of energy with all eyes on him. There was Isaac and the noob, sitting up front like good schoolchildren; there was The Tank, taking up a large portion of the middle of the room; there were the twins up back, unusually silent; next to them were four empty spaces where the three men and one woman of The Underground should have been, after having arrived with perfectly clichéd appearance,

only to have left promptly upon hearing the phrase “preparation”; and to his side, with an encouraging smile, was Anne.

daaa daaaa
Da dada da
daaa daaaa.

'Ridley, Tank,' continued Joe, 'you go straight to the Emperors Tower and demand to see the Emperor himself. They'll refuse. The guards will be Black Shoes, but don't let that scare you.'

The Tank hruffed. Loudly.

'Sell them on the idea that what you've got could change everything. Sell it big. Don't show them anything until you've gone further down the sales pitch, though. Let them know you're only doing this for personal profit, that you're sick of fighting for food. Let them know that what you've got will solve their little sanitation problem.'

Joe smirked at Ridley. He continued:

'Tell them how you've got this wonderful technology that will solve their biggest problem, that you can force the wormholes from Earth to pop up in the location of their choosing. Straight into their jails, if they like. Only after saying this should you show them the device. And make sure it's safe enough to give them a demonstration. They're only guards so they'll be impressed by anything shiny.'

I'd like to point out that I don't personally endorse Joe's thoughts on guards. I think they are an important part of modern society. Perhaps a little lazy at times, sure, but who isn't? And certainly not the most intelligent of workers. Granted, they can be quite cowardly when push comes to shove. But ultimately they do a wonderful job. Bouncers on the other hand...

'This is where you come in,' said Joe, with a look toward the noob. 'Have you spoken to Adam Douglas?'

'All done,' said the noob. 'He assured me that they will agree to the deal. They are desperate. Blah, blah, blah.' (Does it really matter what else he said?)

'Good,' said Joe. He didn't know how the noob had been able to get in contact with the drug-addicted white-suited smooth-talking hyphen-inducing man, and privately cast admonitions my way for not having already established any of this in the story. Especially harmful to the believability was the explicit mention of no communications equipment.

He also pondered how the noob had convinced the man to help. With drugs, maybe? But how would he have access to them?

I could have filled him in on that part. Isaac had a few reds inside his watch (or is that technically the noob's watch?) back from when he was working with the local human gangs. Perhaps I should have mentioned it a few episodes back? Whoops. Oh well. Consider yourself informed.

Having no knowledge of this, Joe plunged on with his instructions to the noob:

'Set up the other end of the matter transmitter here. Then once it's opened up, jump on through. They'll arrest you and hand you over to the Cowboys.'

Ridley grinned at Joe's use of his nickname for the creatures. 'Nice,' he said.

Joe continued with his instructions. Not so much to ignore Ridley, that was merely icing; his focus was on making sure the plan got executed as well and as quickly as possible. 'They'll take you away to the temporary holding area.' Assuming they have agreed to the deal, thought Joe.

The noob probably nodded his head or something like that. But Joe was still worried about how desperate the Cowboys really were. It was clear they were enslaved with transmitters, fixed to this dimension, forced into labour by the O.L.'s. So surely the promise of freedom would be enough recompense for their help.

'Oh,' said Joe, looking at The Tank and Ridley, 'and if they take you away too, which they probably will, they'll send you to the same place.'

'Oh, it'll be fine then,' said Ridley with the brutal force of all his sarcasm. It was a level 9 at least.

'You'll be OK,' said Joe. 'But I'll get to that later.'

'Sure,' said Ridley, 'as long as the Cowboys are in on it. Quite a lot rests on that assumption.'

'We don't have a choice,' said Anne. It was the first thing she'd said since the meeting started. The words hung in the air with no one willing to argue the point, not even Ridley.

To Joe's mind, the air of excitement had been sucked out of the room as they were reminded of why they were doing this. His earlier confidence had been partially based on the thrill of the plan, the kind of thing you'd see before a heist in some Ocean's 50 sequel. Now that the point of the meeting had been reinforced, it was all a bit too...real. He tried to get the tone back on track, at least in his own mind, with some more exhilarating background music.

daaa daaaa
Da dada da
daaa daaaa.

Yeah, that was better. His chest stuck out as he continued the low-down: 'After they witness the veracity of the device, the guards will quickly pass it on, up their chain of command.'

'Why?' said Ridley. He crossed his arms. 'Why would they do that and not just use it themselves?'

'Because they're guards,' said Joe. 'Who ever heard of a smart guard?'

'I've heard of selfish guards,' said Shamus.

'And ones that are on the take,' said Micky.

I must say, I'm shocked at such a strong anti-guard sentiment. I'd put together a protest and march on the streets with big signs and bigger bull-horns, but...you know. *shrugs*

Joe took a deep breath. 'That's not the way the Black Shoes work. They are chosen from those most disciplined so as not to be corrupt. They will fight to be the first to give it to their immediate superior. They will want the rewards of duty.'

He didn't say how he came to know this information. Some might suspect him of being more intelligent than he appeared. Others would realise how obviously wrong that statement was, and surmise that Anne had told him. Still, it was enough to win over the Rat's Nest.

'The rest of us will stand by until the device works its way up to the Emperor.'

This was a big worry. He was fairly sure it would get there, as each rank of the Black Shoes, and further to the O.L.'s, would want to send it straight to the top as soon as possible. But still, it would take time. And time was something they didn't have.

The plan wasn't unravelling just yet. The mission impossible beats in his head were a bit slanted, though, a bit off-key.

daaa daaaa
Da dada da
daaa daaaa.

'Once the device has made it into the hands of the Emperor O.L.,' continued Joe, 'and switched on, Anne will go next, with the transmitter removal tool hidden on her body.'

He looked at her body. Come on, what choice did he have? He mentioned it, she was standing nearby, it was only natural he'd look at it. All those curves and smoothness and warmth. It gave him good thoughts and bad thoughts. Well, bad thoughts about good thoughts. Or should that be good thoughts about bad thoughts? He coughed and continued:

'Remember, act like you were just on Earth and you've been unexpectedly shoved through a gaping hole.'

The twins made a few jokes about shoving and holes, which didn't help Joe's focus.

He didn't really want Anne involved in the plan but she was the only one who knew how to remove the transmitters. Even if there was someone else, there was no way she'd let them do this without her.

'Once she's through,' Joe said 'Anne will get straight to work on removing the Cowboys' transmitters. It'll be a great good-faith gesture. That way, we can get them to find Connie as soon as possible and get her – and everyone else – out of there.'

'When do we get to squeeze through the hole, then?' asked Shamus, with a wink. Joe cringed. I think it was more at my use of a stereotypical over-the-top wink than at any crass humour.

'Next up,' said Joe. 'But space yourselves a bit. We want it to look random.'

'To be sure, to be sure,' said Shamus.

That even made me cringe. Sorry.

Joe paused at the next part of the plan. He wasn't entirely sure how this would happen. There really needed to be better communication systems in play. He hoped that if they did get out of this and manage to transport themselves away from this place, it'd be nice to go some place where phones are prevalent. Or better, some kind of high-tech brain->brain communications mapping. That'd be cool. Or, would have been cool.

That last bit was directed at me. Sigh.

It might get down to just winging it, Joe thought. Just like on Earth: close your eyes and jump through the hole, without knowing what's on the other end.

'Once Connie is out, once you're all out, let me know,' said Joe. He was looking at them all. It didn't matter who told him as long as they did. He turned to Isaac. 'Have you got the weapon working how we want?'

'Ya, I have rigged up ze trigger so zat she overloads on release.'

'On release?' said Joe, shocked. 'What do you mean on release?'

'It is like a dead man's svitch,' said Isaac. He shrugged.

'Why?' said Joe.

'It vas ze most elegant vay to achieve ze desired outcome, ya?'

'Err no,' said Joe.

'So wait,' said Ridley, 'he'll take the thing through to the other side, then when he releases the trigger...ka-boom?'

'I sought you vould appreciate ze self-sacrifice. It vould be helping all of ze people.'

Joe looked at him, aghast. 'You thought I'd want to be a suicide bomber?!'

Ridley laughed. 'We all bear risks with this plan, Joe,' he said.

'Why would I want that?' said Joe.

Isaac started responding but his words were drowned out by a much more animated Joe. 'This is a recovery mission. We're trying to save someone, not bring down a government. I'm no martyr.'

Ridley wouldn't take the horrible grin off his face.

Joe hadn't realised until now, but Anne was holding his arm. It was like a magic transportation device where strength flowed into him. It didn't matter that no one else seemed to be on his side. But why would he self-sacrifice if there were other options?

'Can you rig it up so that it only overheats after I press a button?' asked Joe, trying to keep calm.

'Ya, I'm sure zat could be done. If you vant it.'

'Oh, I vant,' said Joe.

He felt his heart beating against his chest. He was nervous enough without having to worry about exploding randomly. 'Perhaps you should get started on that now,' said Joe, with a quiver in his voice.

'Ya, I can do zat,' said Isaac. The noob followed behind quietly.

Joe let his fingers find Anne's hand and held it in his own. There wasn't much more to the plan but he was finding it difficult to finish. It was all catching up to him. Maybe he hadn't really changed at all. Perhaps the extra confidence, the more willing personality, was just a temporary boost, something that would fall over and die just before he did (i.e. real soon now). His whole body drooped as he deflated emotionally. He looked around at the faces of Shamus and Micky, of a grinning Ridley, of Anne. He wanted more than anything to just curl up in the corner and let them all sort it out. But he'd made a promise. You could call him a lot of things: fat, ugly, introverted, passive, shy, humourless, unintelligent, impersonal, disagreeable, grumpy, purposeless, sexually-frustrated,... oh, err *cough* but promise-breaker ain't one of them.

CLANGGGGGGGGG...

Joe jumped.

The room shook.

They all turned to see the noob standing with a red face next to a large fallen piece of flexible metal.

'Sorry?' he said.

I should have pointed out that this scene is taking place in the Play Pen. It seemed best to hold a secret heist-type meeting in a secret gadget-filled room. Yeah, I don't get it either, but I'm sure it made sense to Joe at the time.

'So like I was saying,' said Joe, 'once you're all out of range and we've got Connie, I'll send through the overheated weapon.'

He had a bad feeling. The kind that says this plan won't go according to, well, plan. The plan of the plan will not, in affect, be well planned. Hang on, I'm going off track here. Joe felt his stomach twist in strange ways. His bad feeling (oh yeah, that's what I was talking about) made its way slowly up his neck and into his conscious brain. The plan should work, in theory, but it just might involve exactly the kind of self-sacrifice he was trying to avoid.

Being terrible with technology was simply the source of a bit of humour back on earth. If you couldn't get your new phone to actually send a phone call, that'd generate a few derisive laughs from onlookers, sure, but you wouldn't find your bones separated from your skin in quite the same way as an explosion. The bigger problem was all the small holes in the plan. Imagine the plan was a large boat. Not the titanic though, since it sank, which would be bad for the plan. Instead, imagine a large yacht, cutting swiftly through the sea with a nice tail wind and plenty of salty sea-dogs to help you on your way (is that what sailors in yachts want, salty sea-dogs?). So you're making good speed when you discover a hole in the hull. Not a massive hole by any stretch, but enough to see the sea through. So rather than be a little dutch boy, you'll refrain from “fixing” the hole by sticking your fingers in. Instead you'll...but wait, what's that? Another hole? The same size but on the other side of the hull. Then another. And another. Pretty soon you're swimming in holes. Pretty soon after that, you're swimming in the ocean. No big holes, just lots of little ones. That's the way Joe felt about the plan. And he didn't want this ship to sink.

He tried to conjure up the theme song in his head once more, to bring back some mojo, but for some reason the tune wasn't coming to him. He would have settled for Gilligan's Island at this point. Instead, he had to stand in the relative silence of the soft metallic noises of Isaac and the noob.

'Any questions?' he said, meekly.

'I've got one,' said Ridley, sitting back. 'What happens when something goes wrong? What happens when things don't go quite to plan? What do we do if we get caught before making it to the Emperors Tower? What happens if the Cowboys aren't on our side? Will the device definitely find its way up to the Emperor O.L.? What happens if we can't even find Connie, if she's not even held there, or...' He looked at Anne. 'What happens if she's already dead?'

Anne's eyes bulged. 'She'll be alive,' she said, almost trying to convince herself. 'They will want to find out all those she “corrupted”.'

She really did speak the quotes around corrupted. It's quite a skill.

'Thanks for enumerating all the potential problems with the plan,' said Joe, stepping in quickly. 'Perhaps you've got some ideas on how to fix them? On what we can do instead?'

Ridley smirked. 'Hey, it's not my job to come up with this crap. I'm here to tear it down, find the holes.'

'Do you even want to help?' said Joe. It may as well get said since he'd been wondering it the whole time, in the back of his mind. 'Do you care about saving Connie or would you rather leave her and find a way to survive here on your own?'

'Hey, I'll do whatever,' said Ridley with a shrug.

You probably would, thought Joe.

'What about you guys, any problems with the plan?'

The twins looked back at him sedately. Perhaps the seriousness of what they were getting into was hitting them, too.

'No problem,' said Micky.

'Good,' said Joe. 'Then we should all make sure we're ready to go as soon as Isaac has the weapon ready.'

Joe stepped into the warehouse. He looked around at the darkened aisles, the mud fixtures, the high ceiling. It already felt like the past for him, like something he used to do, like grandparents you acknowledge and respect, but never want to visit again.

'You did really well,' said Anne, stepping beside him.

'Thanks,' said Joe without much enthusiasm.

'I think it's a good plan,' said Anne.

Plan, plan, plan, plan;
plan, plan, plan, plan.
Plan rhymes with spam!

'We'll get her back,' he said, turning to watch her glassy eyes.

In response she showed a brave smile.

They stood in silence, looking out at the centrepiece of the Rat's Nest, taking in its significance. OK, so maybe Anne had more of a connection to the place than Joe, but without it, neither would have survived long.

'We won't be able to stay here, though,' said Anne. 'Not after.'

'I know,' said Joe. I've got some ideas on that.'

'Good,' said Anne. She turned slowly and faced him. 'I'm really scared,' she said.

'Me too,' said Joe, much louder and faster than he had anticipated, adding a nervous chuckle. He gave her a big hug and felt her body cold, almost shivering.

'Do we have to blow them up?' said Anne, muffled in Joe's chest.

'I think so,' said Joe. 'We'll be in worse shape if they can come after us. Don't you think?'

'Mm,' she said.

Joe pulled back and let his arms fall to Anne's waist. He lifted one hand and touched her face, feeling dampness on her cheek. Their faces were drawn closer together, their lips almost touching, when a clip-clop sound echoed in the warehouse. They both twisted their heads abruptly.

'What's that?' whispered Anne.

'I don't know,' said Joe. He wasn't completely lying, he didn't actually know. But he did suspect. It wasn't the sound the twins make. Ridley would be moving faster and probably shouting out some kind of inane comment. The noob and Isaac would be locked in the Play Pen until they came up with a solution to the dead man's switch. And it certainly wasn't The Tank.

The clip-clops continued, getting louder, getting closer. Like the tick of a clock, they reverberated against the high ceiling of the warehouse. Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-

Episode XII is dedicated to classic movie themes*.

   *That's classic movie-themes not classic-movie themes. GOOMHR!

Find episode XIII here.

© 2013 Ben Safta

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Australia License

Do aliens dream of space operas? (Episode XI)

'Careful now, they're coming back,' said Shamus.

Joe pressed himself against the alley wall as the Black Shoes trotted toward them up the street. Heavy footsteps pounded in unison apart from the occasional clatter of an opposing beat.

None of the hiding party appreciated the jazz-like change in tempo of the marching – probably just as well since they had their lives to worry about and it would be a bit strange to start thinking of some swinging beats at a time like this. Anne, however, must have responded to the missteps with much more practical thought, because she said: 'Look! Oh no.'

Joe squinted as the Black Shoes swept past. In the centre of the gaggle, through the gaps in large heads, bounded in rope like an imminent meal for cannibals, was Connie.

Anne started for the group but was pulled back by Joe.

'We have to save her,' said Anne. Her bulging eyes reminded him of a wild animal.

'Not yet,' he said. 'I've seen this movie too many times. If we go and attack them now we'll all be massacred. We can't. We're not bit players, we're the stars. If we hide now, we'll come up with some amazing plan and cleverly, strategically save the day. Then there'll even be enough time for a final act to conclude everything.'

Anne didn't seem to be listening. She was stalking her way out of the alley and down the road, following the Black Shoes. They all followed. Quietly.

'Come on Anne, dear,' hissed Shamus, his little legs spinning rapidly. 'The silly lookin' man's got a point. We need ta regroup.'

Anne walked briskly. She seemed determined and scared and about to pop.

Joe was sure one of the Black Shoes would turn their head at any moment and see a collection of humans following them, all without transmitters, and all with a weapon of some kind in their hand. He looked down at his own Big Stick

That's what...OK, even I'm getting sick of that joke.

and held it up close enough to see the grains in the wood.

Hehe.

He then threw focus to Anne. More specifically, to Anne's head. A last-resort idea came to him and he soon found himself right behind her. He raised his stick and then-

'Oh no,' said Anne, rushing over to the side of the road. She ran up to the bloody and battered Tank. He'd come out of hiding when he saw some recognisable faces.

'I'm fine,' he said, pre-emptively.

'Sit down. Don't move.' Anne became at once motherly. Her bulging eyes were less bulgy, her pursed lips were more relaxed. She examined The Tank's wounds.

'What happened?' said Shamus and Micky at the same time.

'We were about to nab The New Guy,' said The Tank, wincing at Anne's pokes and prods. 'He was right there. Then we was ambushed. They just streamed in. Lotsa fighting, which was good. Felt good to be back, like I was in training.'

'What about Connie?' said Anne.

'They took her first. After they had her, they just fended me away till they could leave. I broke three noses at least!' The Tank beamed with pride. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say they only wanted Miss Connie.'

'We have to get you back to the Rat's Nest,' said Anne, and thought a little, looking at the receding Black Shoes, at the receding Connie. 'We'll regroup there. Joe, Micky, you'll have to help carry The Tank, I think his tibia may be broken.'

Joe realised his stick was still raised in the air. He lowered it, embarrassed. After his short time being on another planet, and the somehow longer time he'd spent around Anne, he'd realised that you really have to take things one step at a time. You can't worry about a problem when there was another more imminent. In this case, the first step of convincing Anne not to suicide into the Black Shoes had been completed. Even The Tank had been found, which would have rated as a 3(a) at best. The next step would logically be to get home safely, as soon as possible. But he couldn't help but wonder about the future of the Rat's Nest and what might happen next. The O.L.'s now had Connie. Would they come for everyone else? Was that the plan all along? Had Connie managed to slip by them in the past, perhaps with bribes to the right alien at the right time, and now it was all coming to a head? All he knew for sure was that this paragraph was getting long and he'd have to start the unenviable task of carrying the equivalent weight of a cement truck. Or a tank.

Ridley peaked his scuffed head over the low mud wall. Cautious eyes scanned left and right. It was quiet now. No sign of any movement. Still, he thought, it might be a good idea to just wait it out. Surely, any moment now, Connie and The Tank would waltz out of the mud tower with The New Guy in tow and they'd make their way back to the Rat's Nest. Crisis averted. No problemo.

A cold breeze sent a chill through his body as he lowered his head once more.

Joe stepped quietly into the medical bay. It seemed to be quite a common place of late, almost as if someone was trying to cut costs by reusing locations in a film. But since this wasn't a film, that thought was tossed, like so many others, into the useless idea bin.

Anne held up a large knife. It shimmied in the light and almost blinded him.

The Tank, the big tough Tank, took one look at the shining piece of metal and...didn't faint, because that would be too obvious. Instead he grinned. 'You gonna cut me open?' he said excitedly.

Anne used the blade on a thick hard mud tube. She then placed it around his hulk of a leg. Beside her was a large tray of brown paste which she used to seal up the tube.

'How is he?' said Joe. He was expecting her to jump at his sudden words, but she didn't.

'It should heal OK. If he stays off the leg for a few months.'

'A few months!?' exclaimed The Tank.

'Yes, quite unlikely,' said Anne. 'Especially since we need to act fast. Do either of you have any ideas?'

Joe looked at Anne's lips. She hadn't turned to look at him. She wasn't really looking at The Tank's leg, either. Just somewhere in between, and nowhere at all.

'Yeah,' said The Tank, 'we go in there and bash 'em. Simple.'

'Go in where?' said Joe.

'Where ever they got Miss Connie. Where do they got Miss Connie?'

'Normally they take people to the general lock-up first. From there they get...sent away.'

'Where will they send her?' said Joe.

'Come with me,' said Anne, leading Joe out of the medical bay and into the warehouse. Their footsteps echoed in the large empty space.

Joe squinted, not quite able to tell Anne's facial expression in the dimness.

'There is something I should probably tell you,' continued Anne. 'They have been trying to catch Connie out for a while now. She has friends in high places. Some from bribes, others from...I'm not sure, but she has them. And some of the O.L.'s do not like how much power she has accrued.'

'So where will they take her?' Joe was whispering to match the level of Anne's voice, though he wasn't sure why.

'There is a place, sickly and dark, where the worst of the O.L.'s are said to have full reign in their experiments. Where pain is only the beginning. Where the biggest hope you have left is to one day be sent a regular torturer, one who only gouges out your eyes and burns your skin.'

Joe's eyes were wide.

Anne continued: 'Thankfully it will not be there. Apparently, the directive for Connie's arrest goes all the way to the top. They will take her to him. They will take her to the Emperors Tower.'

'You mean the Emperor's Tower. Note the apostrophe in the way I say it.'

'No. Emperors plural. It has passed down from one Emperor to another, one generation to the next, all ruthless, all disgustingly cruel. And now this one has Connie.'

'How do you know this?'

'Micky and Shamus hear things,' said Anne. 'They are part of the underground. Connie never really liked them being so directly involved, not when they lived here. She saw – sees! - the underground as putting all other humans at risk.'

'We are at risk,' said a new voice, a strong voice. Micky stood stoutly before them.

'But there are other ways,' said Anne quietly.

'Violence begets violence' said Micky. ''Tis the only way out of this for all of us. And it'll be the only way to get Connie back. Shamus has gone to the Den to rustle up some helpers. We're gonna go blasting in and do a lotta damage to those damn O.L.'s. Revenge time!' His eyes were glazed and his smile menacing.

'About time,' said The Tank, limping in. It was beginning to be quite the party.

'No,' said Anne. 'We can still get Connie out. But we have to be clever. Not just charge in. How will that help?'

'It'll help because we'll be doing something,' said The Tank.

'We don't havta win the battle to win the war,' said Micky. 'And I'ma sicka this waitin'.'

'Joe, help,' said Anne, finally looking to him in the darkness.

'OK, hang on,' he said. 'Let's sleep on this and see how we feel in the morn-'

'No,' said Anne and Micky at the same time. The word was echoed by The Tank, who was doing his best to keep up.

'We can't wait till then,' said Anne. 'The longer we wait, the less chance that we will get to her in time.'

'Exactly,' said Micky. 'Which is why we act now. A stab, right into their heart.'

An exasperated Anne look pleadingly at Joe. He took one more stab at it.

'All right,' he started, looking at Micky. 'You said Shamus has gone to get some others. We can't exactly start until they get back, right?'

'I suppose that would be true,' said Micky, being careful with his words.

'If we can come up with something else by then,' said Joe. 'A new plan I mean; something better. You'll go with it? You won't just suicide your way into the Emperors Tower.'

Micky thought on it for a while, scratching his chin in the time-honoured way. 'Suuure,' he said, at length.

It wasn't the most convincing of responses but it would have to do.

'Good,' said Joe. He turned to Anne and took her hand. 'Come on, we've got work to do.'

They raced along the hard floor of the warehouse.

'Thanks!' said a new voice. Footsteps meandered through the air like a lazy Sunday afternoon.

'Oh, hi Ridley,' said Joe.

'Oh hi Ridley?' repeated Ridley.

'Sorry, we don't have time to chat at the moment,' said Joe.

'No time ta-' Ridley choked on his own anger. 'What the Hades? Am I the new noob now? The newbie noob. It's noobs all the way down. That kinda thing?'

'Seriously man, we have to come up with a plan to get Connie out. And fast.'

'Where is she?' said Ridley.

'The Black Shoes have taken her.'

'What? When? How? Where is she?'

'The Emperors Tower,' said Joe, answering the last question. Ridley was about to interject when Joe rallied: 'It's plural, not denoting ownership, so need for the apostrophe.'

'Oh,' said Ridley. 'Then why do we always speak with an apostrophe when we say O.L.'s?'

Joe ignored him. 'What were you doing out there? Why didn't you see anything?'

'What was I doing?' said Ridley. 'You're the one who got us into this mess.'

'Oh brother,' said Joe. 'You still on that?'

Ridley didn't know what to say. But he tried, anyway. 'Everything on this planet is backwards. It's like opposite world or something. I'm left out there on my own; no one listens when I speak; there's no where I can go to have fun; I can't even make-sweet-sweet-love to anybody. And, to make it worse, even you have a carnal-acting girlfriend!'

Joe and Anne gave each other a look. Joe dropped the hand he held, embarrassed.

Ridley continued: 'She's way too young for you, man. Much more my age. And let's face it, I'm way hotter than you are. Yet she wouldn't even give me one sign of attractedness.'

Anne awkwardly squeezed her mouth to one side of her face.

'And now I'm female-dogging about my horrible life like some loser emo,' said Ridley. What the exasperated-expression!'

He walked away, exasperated.

'O...K...' said Joe. He shook his head in a comical way that refreshed his senses then looked over at Anne. She raised her eyebrows slightly and gave a sheepish grin. They touched hands again and whisked each other into the bedroom.

Hey, hey, hey, no dirty thoughts, all right? The bedroom is a perfectly legitimate secluded location for a pair to get down to some deep, deep analytical thinking. They aren't doing “homework” and this isn't “high school”.

“High school” is quoted the same as “homework” because it's not real. I don't care what experiences you think you had or what “knowledge” you think you possess. School was a figment of your imagination. At least I hope so. I don't ever want to go back...to that figment of my imagination. Because it's not real. No.

Anne sat on the bed (fully clothed!) and buried her chin in her hands. It was a classic thinking pose. Joe stood nearby, looking vaguely at the wall, his mind awash with thoughts.

See, no sex related activity. If this were a film I might have been coerced into adding a superfluous little ditty with soft lighting and the horrid sounds of a saxophone of unknown origin. It is not, so I have not.

In fact, I've drawn a top-down diagram showing the positioning of both Anne and Ridley, along with a clear barrier surrounding them, proving once and for all that I intend no reference whatsoever to either hanky or panky.

Figure 11-1: Spatial relations sans relations

I hope this clears things up and we can continue.

Anne's hair floated in the wake of a stalking Joe. He marched up and back with a worried gait. He wasn't feeling too confident of coming up with a plan. What did he know about plans?

He knew that best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Which suggested he shouldn't be sitting here wasting time and instead embrace spontaneity.

He also knew that he should love it when a plan comes together, courtesy of John “Hannibal” Smith. Which suggested a well-detailed plot of things to come. It would be hard to enjoy the spoils of a plan if the plan wasn't followed to the letter.

He knew that there was often a Plan B. Did this suggest he should come up with a second plan? This one was a quandary. If he had one, he'd have to use it, since they never get mentioned if they aren't. So by not having one, he'd make sure that Plan A (or “the plan”) would be successful. It also meant he wouldn't have to come up with yet another plan, when the first wasn't quite fleshed out as yet.

He'd heard of “Plan 9 from Outer Space”, but not being into science fiction*, didn't know much beyond its billing as the worse film ever made. Did that suggest coming up with a bad plan? That something truly, terrifyingly awful would bode well?

*Yeah, right.

He also knew that the word plan was like a shortened version of planet – the very thing he was nervously walking on this moment. Coincidence? Yes, almost definitely. That made him realise the folly of useless plan talk.

'Got any ideas?' he asked Anne.

She looked up as if breaking out of a deep thought. She stared into his eyes. She shrugged.

This was going great, Joe thought. Maybe some planning music would help. Yeah, let's break this thing down, hip hop style, yo.

Ridley sat with his back against a large mud basket. The floor was cold on his bare foot. He scratched it, showing great dexterity by bending it almost to his face.

He looked up at the tall aisles and thought back to how things were before arriving on this planet. He remembered how easy everything seemed. You just closed your eyes, jumped in, and when you opened them again you'd be welcomed by more excitement and more adventures. Your whole world would just sort itself out; everything fell into place. Now, here, it had all changed. When he closed his eyes and jumped through the black wormhole, he emerged into some parallel universe where up was down and he was the noob. It was almost enough to make a guy doubt himself. But not him, not Ridley.

It had started fine: watching Joe run for his life in that first courtyard, being abducted by the aliens without any probing, getting to see the most beautiful woman he'd ever goggled at. All priceless memories. And all happening without a care for others. That was the problem. He had started to spend too much time being part of the team, doing his part, helping! That last part made him shiver. That's where all his issues lay. The solution was staring him in the face.

Be a jerk. Be an individual. Don't listen to others. And most importantly, stop all this thinking! The time for thinking was past. Move on to the better Ridley, the careless Ridley, the true Ridley.

It was also time to find a way out of this crappy place. Which meant relying on someone else to find a way. Why should he rack his brains when others could do it for him? Why should he waste time? The only problem with the plan of having no plan was he'd have to wait for it to happen. In the mean time, there was always the chance for snide, sarcastic remarks to get him through.

He gave his foot another scratch.

'I just thought you might have some thoughts,' said Joe. 'Help get us started with something.'

The noob looked up, almost in shock. His face reddened and lowered quickly to the workbench by his side.

Joe looked at Anne. 'Even just an idea or two,' he said. 'Related to...all this.' He gestured vaguely to the Play Pen as a whole.

'Ya, we are a bit busy at ze moment,' suggested Isaac, moving from one spot to another, looking busy.

'It's more like brainstorming, saying whatever comes into your mind, no matter how unrelated.

'Perhaps if you are to try again lat-'

'Isaac,' said Anne, authoritatively.

Isaac stopped and looked up at her. He blinked a few times before giving an embarrassed shrug, then continued with his busywork.

Anne sent a stare which didn't quite hit its intended recipient. The noob had inadvertently wondered into range and noticed her expression, immediately becoming shamed and questioned, falling back on his haunches.

Joe showed a high measure of practicality by ignoring the lack of response and focussing on the job at hand. His earlier music idea hadn't helped since there was no pre-recorded music on this planet. He had hoped that being exposed to the technology on display in the Play Pen would help. Instead, looking around at all the moving parts, the gears and cranks, the electronics, the soldering irons; it just made things more confusing.

'Hmm,' he said to Anne, 'perhaps we're going about this the wrong way. Maybe what we need to do is think about everything that's happened since arriving on this planet. Any plan must necessarily involve only the things we've experienced. Otherwise it'd be like that Harry Potter movie where a sword just magically appears at the end.'

Anne raised a confused eyebrow to this but I understood completely.

'So what have we got?' mused Joe. He scratched his chin. 'We know that the aliens speak a different language, and that it gets instantly translated...somehow.'

'I doubt that holds much significance,' said Anne, helpfully.

'Hmm, you're right. So what about...these transmitters? They've been mentioned over and over again. Surely they could be of use?'

Probably on the wrong (star) trek there, Joe. I haven't even explained who's receiving the tracking data or why it's even important. Kind of hand-waived that tidbit. Embarrassed smiley face.

'OK,' continued Joe, 'well what about...' He looked around the cavernous room. Surely something here would spark an idea.

The sounds of loud voices in the warehouse muffled their way into the Play Pen. The members of the Underground had arrived. Already!

He felt the touch of soft skin. Anne's fingers wrapped around his hand. She looked at him with such an earnestness, such an innocence...the small crack in her even veneer was enough to wedge his heart inside. His resolve became emboldened. His mind went back to their discussions out in the yard. Then later, in the chaos after The New Guy did his bit for the O.L.'s, how he was hurt at the lack of trust. Things had changed. He was now expected to get them out of this, to get Connie back. And it felt good. Scary, frightening even; but good.

He ran his finger against Anne's and felt the warmth of her hand. It was quite a contrast to the cold metal of the weapon he had felt for that brief time, back when he didn't want the expectation.

The weapon!

Surely, he thought, they could do something with weapons. But what? It wouldn't be much use against a slew of O.L.'s. His thoughts even shifted to the way it overheats, and what happens as a result.

'Wait, the weapon overheats?' he asked.

Isaac looked up. 'Ya, it does,' he said, not missing a beat.

Joe hissed an exhale.

Isaac continued: 'If ze frequency of use ist too high, she vill become far too hot to ze touch. At zat point, you must cease use or it vill...'

'It vill what?' said Joe.

They all looked at each other.

Episode XI is dedicated to boobies everywhere.
Uh, I mean plans. I like plans. It's good to have plans.

Find episode XII here.

© 2013 Ben Safta

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Australia License