This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?
They went to her room, anyway. There was a lot to discuss and do. The little room was much like a hotel room. Table, bed, luxurious accommodations, a window into space, and a bathroom that frankly freaked Janet out somewhat. It took a little getting used to. There were, let’s call them receptacles for several kinds of races to do their business and clean up. She spent the night asking questions about space. What was it like? Why was he hiding on Earth? Were there other crab people? There were plenty of answers. Big galactic governments, cheeseburgers to die for, and yes, he had a home world and never wanted to return to it. So much so that he chooses Bacon any day of the week.
In space, there were galactic weeks, all eight days; a month was eight weeks long and always started on Monday. They had Monday through Sunday, like Earth. Earth had actually been inspired by the stars by that, but the eighth day was called Yersday, and it was traditionally a day singled out for personal development and meditation. It gave everyone a three-day weekend also, so that reduced a lot of stress too. Why didn’t Earth use that day? It had lost it over the years, but mostly it had to do with trying to jam their weeks into time that would match their path around the sun, which was silly. Tracking the seasons separately from their weeks would have made it easier to move on. It perplexed Wen, and he just left it to stay at that.
They skirted around Bacon several times, and Wen softly deflected it. Janet covered loosely only in sheets and asked him again. “Tell me about Bacon. What are we looking at there?”
“Janet I…”
“I know. You don’t want to think about it, but I need to know, especially if I’m going to visit you once in a while.”
“It’s a prison planet.”
“I know that, I mean…”
“It’s brown. Essentially a mud ball on the surface, with three moons where the authorities organize their patrol ships and register everyone going up and down for a visit. I could be wrong about that number.”
“Then on the planet?”
“I’d be set up with an apartment, and all of my neighbors would be like me.”
“Big crab guys?”
“No, what you might consider supervillains from different planets and eras? The galaxy has housed them all together, as many as possible, where they can keep them all under control. Mostly we’ll get local jobs, work, occasionally brawl, but they keep groups of similar power together in what they call isolated neighborhoods so that things stay pretty even.”
“No ships.”
“No, no ships, cars, nothing to ride on. There is no transport of any kind. You’d check in on one moon, and ride a shuttle down to see me.”
“Okay. Mud, you said it’s all mud on the surface.”
“Yeah, mud and lots of rain, but Bacon is underground.”
“What is it like, a bubble?”
“Not exactly. There are these huge round hatches, large enough to land in, kind of pockmarked on the planet, and, under each, is an isolated neighborhood. Down there, under the mud, which constantly splashes in the rain and gets on, everything is an artificial city, complete with day and night cycles shining from the ceiling by projectors.”
“Then you just live down there. There are patrols, and check-ins and everyone must return to their apartment by a certain time each night.”
“What about folks they can’t keep under control?”
“It’s the hard gel. It kind of brown fluid they encase you in and then, after filling the container, with you in it, they electrify it, and instantly you are on ice.”
“Frozen?”
“Basically. Not cold, just well, frozen. Your body suffers no damage, and you can’t move, but you experience time. You wake up and experience the day, and the night, but no one is ever sure when you’re awake. Nutrition is taken care of by this mechanism. They’ll take me down in it, so don’t be alarmed when they do it to me.”
“Oh great, they aren’t!”
“Yes, they’ll have to. It’s the only safe way for me to travel down.”
“Just a shuttle?”
“Not for me. It’s almost time.”
There was nothing out the window. It all looked dark and then the planet was there. “Oh, it looks like a giant meatball in space, covered in…”
“Bacon right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s got big steel towers all over.”
“Yeah.”
He stood by her. “We’re coming in. There are the moons over there, well, two of them anyway, and yeah.”
Both moons were pale yellow in the light reflected from the planet and the nearby sun. One was a little more cratered than the other, and one was covered in cities and lights. It took the work of a full planet’s worth of law enforcement to keep this place in check. Ships constantly flew from the surface to the moon and back. Occasionally, one was blown up.
“Escape attempt. I assume it happens daily.”
“Oh.”
She held him.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I know, but it’s not forever. They’ll set up the visitation situation, and you ought to know you, and not Barton, are getting all the credit for bringing me in. I talked to him about that. This is his job. He can’t collect the bounty.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you’ll have some galactic credits to get you started with.”
“Ah. Oh?”
He smiled at her in the dim light of the cabin. “You’d better get dressed.”
“Ah, ack! Where are my shoes?” She pulled the sheet off the bed and looked under it. She pulled the turquoise shoes out from under a sofa and pulled her black dress from off the bed. She pulled it on, and Wen helped her with her shoes, and kissed her hand, slowly and softly, just as there was a knock on the door.
It opened, and Barton stood there with two towering robots behind him. They were armed, and by that their arms ended not in clear hands but weapons instead, sharp points, lasers, mass drivers, missiles, and a rack of throwing stars.
“You’re ready Wen?”
“Of course.”
“We don’t need these guys, right?”
“The robots are unnecessary, no.”
“That’s What I like to hear. Come on, let’s go. It’s time.”
We stepped out into the corridor and allowed the robots to flank him just a little. With Janet on his right, and Barton on his left, they walked down the hall to the elevators. Barton waved his hand at it. His pass seemed to light up, embedded in his hand, and the doors opened.
They got in, and Barton said, “Four, please.”
The tube shot up, and let them out into a steamy room, lit mainly by orange and green lights coming through the grates on the floor, with some heavy spotlights from above. There was a large open spherical depression on the floor, and from it blew a tower of green steam.
“You know how this works,” said Barton.
“I know. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
“True.”
“Wen!”
“Janet, I…” she kissed him before he could finish.
The robots pushed Wen from the back, but he shrugged them off. “You don’t need to do that.” He looked them in the face and stared them back. He stepped down into the depression, and waited, standing in the steam and telling Janet he’d see her shortly while three bent spikes came down from the ceiling until they were just above him.
They started blasting when he closed his eyes. Starting from his midsection, a bubble of bright orange material expanded, floating almost weightless as it grew around him until it covered his shoulders, legs, feet, hands, and finally his head.
“Oh Wen, no.” He struggled, fought, and appeared to gasp for air, and then they shot a bolt of electricity through the liquid and it all turned blue and solid, resting on the floor. Wen could no longer move, frozen there for transport.
“Is he dead?”
“Oh no, we won’t even keep him like this all that long. Haul him up!”
The floor flattened, and the two blaster bots got behind it and rolled him away. They rolled him through a side door that closed, but not before Janet saw him one last time.
She turned to Barton and grabbed onto him.
“I know,” he said. “I’ve got people down there too that are close to me. Come on. We’ve got more business to take care of.”
He led her out the door. They walked down the hall. “Down here.”
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t worry, it’s good news.”
She followed him into a stuffy office in the middle of the ship. There were no windows, but she could see the planet below, a giant bacon-covered meatball rotating beneath them.
The room has a single, smallish table in the middle. Two people, beings, sat on the other side. One looked as human as anyone, maybe slightly large on the ears, and the other was another of the folks that reminded her of talking celery.
“Please sit down miss Janet…”
“Roberts.”
“Roberts, Thank you.” The celery was doing the talking.
“We are prepared to transfer to you a rather sizeable sum of money following the capture of your friend, who was wanted on thirteen systems. We know you are new to the intergalactic community, so we’ve set you up with a valid identification card, and bank account. It’s all here in this folder.”
He handed over a small folder that fit into her hands. She opened it and read through it. It was like a tight small wallet that ended in a computer.
“You can read all the documents? Is the language okay?”
“Yes, it seems fine.”
She had no pockets, so she just held onto it.
“What’s this computer in the back?”
“There’s an earphone you can use. Think of it like a tablet computer phone thing, all in one.”
“And it’s mine?”
“Oh, yes.”
“How do I recharge it?”
“You don’t need to.”
“What?”
“It’s got a twelve-year battery. Just before it dies, another will be delivered to you. Questions?”
“I need to pick up a few things. Are all ties with Earth gone?”
“We’ve intervened on Earth. You are no longer wanted, but they think you and the creature are lost to the sea. Video of you jumping and flying around with him is still widely circulating on all digital social media platforms.”
“So you’re saying…”
“You’ll be recognized quickly. What we gave done is send a group of unwitting police to seize everything in your apartment. Would you like to go through it?”
“You got my stuff? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I figured you were more interested in hanging out with the big guy.”
“Right. Where is it?”
“This way.”
He took her down the hall and opened another door that was full of evidence boxes. They were open, lined up, and ready for her to go through.
“I’ll come back.”
“Okay.”
The door slid closed. She lifted lids on cardboard boxes and pushed them around, some larger than others. She located her rolling luggage. “Check.” Then searched until she found her favorite shoulder/carry-on bag. That was good. She found a couple of purses, threw away most of them, but kept three and started packing them. If it didn’t fit, there was no way she’d take it beyond this. She was keeping the black dress and the turquoise pumps as well. She found her underwear, good god, she was glad to see that, her favorite sunglasses, her best jacket, and a good assortment. She found the most comfortable sneakers, kept a pair of boots, and when she was finished, and ready to let the rest of it go, the door slid open.
“Ready?”
“Yeah. Thanks for bringing all this up.”
“My pleasure.”
She pulled her luggage behind her, her other bag over her shoulder, redressed, and was ready to move on.
