In My Life . . .

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“ . . . there are so many questions and answers that somehow seem wrong . . . ” A quote from Les Miserables. I’d never heard of it . . . and yet, it fits my story so exactly! Intrigued? Read on to find out why:

“I am afraid I did not hear you correctly,” Warlord Shank said in a voice of spine-tingling calm. “Would you please give me your message again?”

The Spung henchman winced, recoiling in terrified expectation. “I said that . . . that when we sent one of the servants up to fetch Surrola Elmira from her quarters, she was . . . was gone. Upon further investigation, we discovered that she may have . . . er . . . utilized a shuttle from the landing bay to . . . well . . . escape.”

“WHAT!” Shank’s cry of outrage shook the walls of his quarters. Eyes flashing, he turned to his second-in-command. “You will send out a general-public notice to all corners of the galaxy. If my daughter is alive, she will be found.”

“Whoa . . . ”

The Christa’s crew stood frozen in the entrance to the alien marketplace, motionless, as though a single movement would break the spell and make the magical spectacle before them vanish into thin air. The kids were staring, mouths open, eyes wide; before them was a marketplace filled with aliens of every size, color, and description - more diversity than they’d ever seen in one place before.
When Thelma had announced the day before that the ship was running low on fuel and needed a few minor repairs, the crew became determined to convince their commanding officers that they deserved a little shore leave. “It’ll take at least two or three days for the on-planet mechanics to fix the Christa up and make her space-worthy again,” Harlan had said in the maddeningly persuasive tone which he’d discovered could get him anywhere.

Once Goddard had assured himself that the planet they’d chosen for their repairs was civilized and well-populated, he’d reluctantly agreed that the students could have some time off to check out the area surrounding their landing site. And, in what was perhaps the more difficult action, he’d persuaded Miss Davenport to grant permission as well.
No one had been sure exactly what to expect on the planet, but they certainly weren’t prepared for this. When they’d first stepped out of the ship into the main storage garage of the planet, they had been amazed to find themselves surrounded by ships from the farthest corners of the universe - even the commander couldn’t identify some of the models around them.

And when they entered the marketplace itself, the barrage of alien species was incredible. There were humanoids, insectoids, reptilian creatures with long, forked tongues . . . almost anything you could imagine was browsing the shops, playing the games, or sitting under the huge canopy that housed the food court, enjoying a meal or a drink from one of the countless food counters.

For once in his life, Harlan was speechless as his gaze moved from one eye-catching booth to another. Suddenly, his face lit up, and he moved quickly toward a hairy humanoid creature who was selling colorful tye-dyed tops.

“Mr. Band, hold it right there!” The commander’s voice stopped Harlan dead in his tracks. “No one is going anywhere on their own. You’re free to look at the displays if you can convince someone to go with you, but you will be back here to check in by 1500 hours. Is that clear?”

“Got it,” Harlan said quickly. “Come on, Radu - let’s go.” He hurried off in the direction of the tye-dye. Rolling his eyes, Radu followed him.
“Harlan, shouldn’t we be heading back to the ship soon?” Radu asked worriedly. “We were supposed to check in by 1500, and it’s . . . ” He glanced at the cheap cadet-issue timepiece on his wrist. “It’s past 1530 now.” Harlan didn’t even acknowledge that he’d spoken - he was too busy bargaining with an incredibly tall insectoid over the price of a strange-looking virtual reality helmet.

“Come on, pal - fifty? For this thing? You can’t be serious! I mean, how many offers have you gotten for this today? Didn’t I hear you telling your partner over there that I was your first customer all day? And look at me - I’ve only got two eyes! I can’t even use all the vision sensors in this thing!” The insectoid looked at him sarcastically, as if to say, What, you expect me to feel sorry for you or something? Ignoring the look, Harlan continued. “I totally agree with you, though, buddy. Mammals are way overrated. Insects are just . . . so much cooler. I mean, six legs, four eyes - you’re so . . . I can’t even find words to describe it!”

He paused, shaking his head as if to get himself back on topic. “Okay, like I was saying. I’ll give you ten for it - best price you’ll get for the piece of junk, I’m telling you! And a nice guy like you doesn’t deserve to go all day without selling something.” With a sigh, the insectoid handed over the helmet. Harlan tossed him a few dollars of the intergalactic currency that the students had been given before they left the ship. “Hey, Radu! Let’s head this way - I heard a few kids talking about a race that’s having competitions in some big pit over past the food court. From what they said, I guess even you would be in trouble if you got tangled up with one of those things!”

“Harlan . . . ” Radu said, exasperated. “Didn’t you hear me saying that we should check in soon? We’re almost an hour late now.” The human seemed not to hear him. “Are you even listening to me?” Just go, he was surprised to find himself thinking. Let Harlan find his own way back!

No, he said to himself firmly as he watched his crewmate pore over the fairgrounds map with a furrowed brow, I can’t just leave him. He has no idea where we are - he’d be completely lost if I decided to take off.

But he ignored you . . . his other voice countered.

Well . . . well, maybe he didn’t hear me - did I speak too softly again? Especially when he’d first joined the crew, he’d had a tendency to forget himself and speak in what would be a normal Andromedan tone. Abruptly, he paused. I’m having an argument with myself! he realized with a laugh. Oh, well - back to the business at hand. Deliberately raising his voice, he said, “Harlan!”

“Huh?” Harlan looked up from the map. “Sorry - I wasn’t listening,” Suddenly, a conspiratorial grin appeared on his face. “Hey, was that a great deal or what? I’ll tell you something, buddy - flattery will get you anywhere.”

“We’re late for check-in,” Radu said bluntly.

“What?” Harlan looked confused. “Oh! Right . . . don’t worry about it, pal.” He laughed. “Commander Goddard didn’t mean for us to be back by then! Check-in time was just for the girls and Bova - the commander knows we can take care of ourselves.”

Radu still looked skeptical.

“Look,” Harlan continued, “first of all - give me the watch. You’re way too obsessed with knowing what time it is. I’m telling you, Commander Goddard doesn’t care what time we get back.” Radu suddenly realized that the watch seemed to have been mysteriously transported to Harlan’s wrist. “Okay - there’s one of your problems solved. Now about this whole check-in thing - I’ll make you a deal. The wrestling pit will be our last thing. The match won’t take long - half an hour, tops. And after it’s done, we’ll head straight back to the ship. Promise.”

Yeah, right, Radu thought. You can’t just leave him here . . . his conscience reminded him. Besides - he promised this wouldn’t take long. “Well . . . all right,” he said slowly. That settles it, he thought, shaking his head affectionately as he quickened his step to keep up with Harlan’s eager pace. The promise settles it. We’re doomed to be wandering around the planet for the rest of our lives . . .
“Sir!” the Spung communications officer said urgently. “We are receiving a response to your inquiry about the princess!”

“So play it, you fool,” Shank snarled impatiently.

As the officer’s hands moved nimbly over the control panels, a fuzzy image appeared - the image of a young adult Andromedan. “Attention evil Spung demons! We have the princess. She is alive - for now. But unless we receive a response from you before seventy-two universal hours have passed, she will be executed.” A sinister grin appeared on the creature’s face. “I would advise not trying to trace this message - it has been programmed to self-destruct upon further inquiry. If you have an interest in regaining the princess, contact us and we will discuss the matter of ransom.” The message dissolved into static and the communications officer shut the transmitter.

“What shall we do, Warlord? As the creature in the message said, there are no coordinates attached. Shall I send a message to them?”

“No,” Shank said, sounding determined. “I will not negotiate with those pasty-faced morons. You shall use my daughter’s royal retrieval chip to transport her back to the cruiser.”

“I . . . I am sorry, Warlord,” the officer
stammered. “But the technology of the device works on the principle that you enter in the coordinates of the location that the princess is to be brought from and the location you wish to bring her to. Without knowing where these creatures are, we cannot activate the mechanism of the royal retrieval chip.”

Shank looked perplexed - but only for a moment. A determined look came into his eyes. “They should not be all that difficult to locate. Their threat of the message disintegrating is certainly not as involved as something that we would create; they are not intelligent enough to create such a complex program. You will override their simplistic security system and determine their coordinates.”

“But Warlord - ”

“It is not wise to question my instructions,” Shank said with an evil grin. “I’m certain you are aware of the fate of the last crew member who disobeyed my orders?” The henchman gulped and turned back to the computer console.
“Okay, now tell me the truth. Wasn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?” Harlan said excitedly.

“Uh . . . you want the truth?” Radu tried frantically to think of an answer. His head ached - the crowd surrounding them hadn’t stopped screaming from the time the wrestling competitors had entered the ring. “Uh, well . . . actually . . . watching furry five-hundred-pound guys throw each other around isn’t really my idea of a good time . . . but it was kind of fun . . . I guess . . . ”

He didn’t want to tell Harlan his true opinion - as soon as the two hairy wrestlers had entered the ring, Radu had been ready to leave the auditorium. The whole thing had made him uncomfortable - Andromedans were taught from the time they were children that they had to be extremely careful to keep their strength in check, because they were the most powerful race in the universe. Although he would never have admitted it, he knew that even the smaller of the two hairy creatures could easily beat him in a fair fight, and the sight of them so blatantly flaunting their strength frightened him a bit.

“And what’d I tell you - that didn’t take long.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean . . . it seemed so much longer than it actually was . . . ” Radu said vaguely.

“Hey, what time is it now?”

“You tell me - remember, you have the watch now.”

Harlan glanced at his wrist. “Uh . . . no, I don’t.”

“Great,” Radu said sarcastically. “We’re done for! Come on - we’d better head back before the commander hits the spontaneous combustion stage!”
“Whoa! Check it out - a two-headed . . . uh . . . something!” Harlan said, detouring yet again to look at one of the little shops lining their path back.

“Come on, Harlan! Do you need to stop at every booth along the way? Just remember, every time we stop we add another ten minutes onto our lifetime of detention.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay - let’s go!” Turning, Harlan headed briskly back toward the campsite - not realizing that his crewmate was no longer following him.

The Earther’s last words hadn’t even registered with Radu - he was entirely focused on another of the fair’s patrons. A patron of a very familiar species.

He hadn’t seen another Andromedan since he’d left home to go to Starcademy - and he’d never seen one dressed in the costume this young female was wearing. The usual Andromedan uniform was intended to make all community members look alike . . . it was a neutral gray, about the same shade as the Starcademy uniforms, and was cut in the same pattern for males and females. This girl was dressed in the same basic uniform, but instead of being gray, it was colored a brilliant red, and had the letters YAASC printed across the front. “Yask?” he muttered. “What in the universe is that?” He’d never heard of a group with those initials - and he certainly didn’t know of any organization that would wear such eye-catching outfits.

With a start, he suddenly realized that Harlan had moved on without him - the human was lost in the crowd. Concentrating on screening out background noise, he tried to focus in on his friend’s familiar voice and step - but the cacophony of thousands of alien tongues blended easily together, making it all but impossible to locate one individual.

Radu wasn’t overly concerned about getting to the ship himself, but he winced as he remembered Harlan’s navigational struggles when he had been trying to decipher the alien symbols of the fairground’s map. He’ll never make it back on his own. I’ve got to find him!

Steeling himself for the almost-impossible job ahead of him, he turned hurriedly and stepped back into the marketplace - a little too quickly, it seemed. As he stepped forward, he collided with another patron who was examining some trinkets on a nearby table. A patron who seemed to be built like an enormous, hairy mountain.

He looked up . . . and up . . . into the furious countenance of one of the huge furred wrestlers from the competition. One look at the creature’s expression made it clear that this species’ temper certainly matched their incredible strength. With a snarl, the wrestler pulled Radu off his feet. He half-heard his jumpsuit rip, but didn’t bother to look down - he was more concerned with the creature, which had lifted him into the air until the two were eye-to-eye. The last thing the young Andromedan saw was a huge hairy fist rocketing toward his face. There was a blinding pain in his head . . . and then he knew nothing more.
He’d been awake for almost half an hour before the room stopped spinning. When he was able to focus on his surroundings, he realized he was lying in a small, dark room which was furnished in the typical simple Andromedan style. Two young males sat quietly in the corner, discussing what sounded like battle plans.

As soon as he sat up, he regretted his decision. His head was pounding as though someone were inside making themselves busy with a sledgehammer.

His own throbbing consciousness hadn’t registered the slightest sound. But as if he’d made some sort of secret signal, both of the others in the room suddenly spun around to look at him. “Oh, good, you’re awake!” the taller one said, walking over. “Are you feeling all right?”

Uncertainly, he nodded. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that both of his rescuers wore unusually bright crimson uniforms with the letters YAASC printed across them. And glancing down at his own body, he realized he was clad in an identical costume. What was this group that had rescued him? And, for that matter, what had he been rescued from?

Well, there’s only one way to find out - start asking questions. “What happened to me?”

“We found you outside - sprawled in the street, unconscious. You looked as though someone had beaten you up pretty badly.” The speaker, the older of the two and the only one in the room to wear the shoulder bars that designated adult status, looked apologetic. “We’re sorry that we had to put you in one of our uniforms without your permission, but the clothes you were wearing were no longer appropriate - they were seriously torn. Anyway, our medical technician checked you over and says that you’re perfectly healthy - he expects you to make a full recovery.” He paused, motioning to his partner. “This is Litu 137, and I’m Toma 023. What’s your name?”

“My name is . . . ” He stopped, paralyzed. It seemed the easiest question in the world - “What’s your name?” But he felt as though he had walked into a strange classroom and been handed a final exam written in an alien language. He was utterly clueless. “My name is . . . uh . . . uh . . . ”
“So you have no memory of how you came to be here?” Toma asked, sounding amazed. “That’s terrible . . . I’ve heard about community members losing their memories like this, but I’ve never actually met anyone who’s had it happen to them.” He shook his head, seemingly unable to process the information. But suddenly, he turned to the stranger with a sad smile. “Consider this - you have no convoy to return to, no mission that needs completing. If you choose, you could stay here and become one of us - we would welcome your help.”

“What do you mean, become one of you? What would I become?”

“We are YAASC,” Toma said, unconsciously slipping into the more formal, showy language as though he were hoping he’d found a potential buyer for a new product. “Young Andromedans Avenging Spung Cruelty. It is our mission to punish those evil lizard-creatures for the injustices they have done to our people!”

“I know what you’re talking about . . . sort of,” he said cautiously. He had little clear knowledge left . . . the bits and pieces of memory that remained were shadowy and jumbled. “But I thought it was mostly the generation before us that was mistreated.”

“Yeah,” Toma said hesitantly, “that’s true. You look awfully young - younger than most of the group.” He looked closer at him. “Actually, I don’t know whether you’re even old enough to have been a slave yourself. But even if the Spung never did anything to you personally, they are the cause of all the universe’s corruption - the only creatures who are truly evil.” His expression hardened. “I was still young when we were enslaved - just a small child. I was never forced to fight in the battles. But the things I’ve seen would give you nightmares for the rest of your life!” He paused, seeming to give himself a mental shake, as if he were telling himself, This isn’t the time! Turning back to the wide-eyed stranger, he continued. “Consider this: you were probably put into your present situation by Spung cruelty.”

“What?” He didn’t even know how he had gotten into his present situation - how could this guy know that his problems were “probably” caused by the Spung? And anyway, Toma (was that his name?) was starting to give him the creeps. He knew that the Spung were evil - he remembered that clearly. But it sounded as though this guy was ready to blame them for bad weather! Wasn’t that taking it a bit to extremes?

“Okay - let’s think about this. We found you in the street, hurt and alone. If you had been part of a convoy, they certainly wouldn’t have abandoned you - Yon looks with disfavor on those who turn away from their comrades in need. Your most likely situation is that of a Spung servant, injured and left to die because he was no longer useful.”

He gulped. Toma’s reasoning still didn’t make much sense to him, but his head hurt too badly to allow much contemplation on the subject. And he didn’t want to endanger himself by questioning the logic of the only familiar face in this suddenly unfriendly universe.

"So, what do you say?” Toma was saying now. “Are you with us?”

Uncertainly, YAASC’s newest cadet nodded.

Click here for Part 2 of In My Life . . .