Читать книгу Space Patrol! - Sarah Nicole Nadler - Страница 8

Mr. Piff stood on the bridge of the Forty-Five. He watched from fifteen paces as her new Captain, Lissa Phelps of Earth, stood at the helm listening intently to the ‘bot explain the basics of spatial navigation. Lollipop shuffled from one foot to the other, bored yet refusing to leave the Earthling’s side. Interesting, Mr. Piff thought. Friss, being telepathic, were known to be scrupulously picky. That this one was so obviously attached to the Earthling was a point in the girl’s direction. More proof of his speculations toward Man.

Lissa peered down at the brass bot and shook her hair from her face, looking as though she wished she could settle the new information into place along with the locks of her brown hair.

“So essentially, it’s like sailing through narrow straights between spatial bodies, where the tides are determined by different gravitational pulls, and you use basic geometry plotted against a compass rose to determine where you are?” she looked at the ‘bot for confirmation.

“In so many words, yes,” the little butler said.

Stephanie, a few feet off, laughed and shook her head ruefully, “You’re the geek around here, Lissa! If anyone can fly this thing, it’ll be you.”

Mr. Piff had done all the paperwork necessary to turn over ownership of the Forty-Five Dancing Girls to Lissa, who had changed the name to simply Forty-Five, and was making short work of understanding the mathematics involved in piloting. These Earthlings are smart, Arthur Piff thought, and he was glad to have found an opportunity to deny GTC their capture and enslavement.

With a satisfied nod, Lissa now turned her attention to the Mursi siblings. Shika stood proudly against the rail, alien armor now covering much of her, the white chalk paint on her limbs slightly smeared from her adventures. She looked back into Lissa’s green eyes and gave a small smile. Her brother stood beside her, one hand draped casually on his sister’s shoulders in a protective air.

“Did you understand any of that?” Lissa asked them.

“I understand that you are now owner of this ship,” Ash spoke with a heavy Ethiopian accent, his white teeth flashing in a smile as he imagined the young girl before him flying through space, “But these words of space travel I do not understand.”

He squatted down, placing his spear on the cool planks of the deck and gesturing for Lissa to be seated. She marveled at the differences of culture—an American would have hunted around for a chair.

Shiro wandered over from where he had been in deep conversation with the Space Patrol Captain. Tugging once on his sleeve to indicate he should join them, Lissa took her own seat and turned to watch him remove his fur-lined red silk cap and sit beside her. Lollipop hopped happily onto her lap, eyestalks darting about in intense curiosity.

Stephanie casually leaned against the forecastle to listen in, and Mr. Piff leaned closer as well to watch with interest this first meeting of the crew.

Lissa glanced from one sibling to the other, “How did you both get here?” she asked at last.

Shika settled into a cross-legged seat on the floor beside her brother. Her hands moved expressively as the bot translated her words into melodious English. Lissa was amused to note that her tale sounded much like an epic ballad told around a campfire, but then, oral traditions were still strong in places such as northern Ethiopia where the Mursi twins hailed.

Shika began:

“On the day I was born the gods cursed me with a beautiful face.

Or so the Elders say. They condemned me for denouncing the Old Ways, for refusing the plate lip and the tattoos that scar the faces of the other women of our tribe.

Yet I am fifteen years old—a woman grown, and I will choose my own fate.

Our people live a simple existence—the land gives us life just as it did when our ancestors laid paths here a thousand-thousand years ago. We raise our cows and supplement the milk they give with crops of corn and wild honey.

But the beauty of the land is a stark contrast to the appearance of my people.

It is said in legend that years ago, as the dry summer winds blew across the ripening gold of our fields, the devils blew in as well. Borne upon the hot winds in their chariots of fire they butchered our people and searched our faces for the Curse. Any woman not cured of beauty by a plate lip or scars was taken away across the deserts to slavery and death.

Or so the Elders tell us.

No one in living memory had ever seen a devil. Why should I scar my face and cut my lip for a phantom? I did not think they really existed. Nor did Akira, my younger sister.

For us the world was vast, the honey milk sweet, and the warriors of the tribe looked admiringly on our dark faces—unmarred like many of the more traditional girls—and my sister and I planned to marry the best of them.

We were in the hut; Akira was smearing white chalk paint on my face, her own skin bare as she waited for me to do the same for her. She drew stripes across my cheek bones and painted around my eyes as we prepared for a celebration. It was dawn, and the air was cool—I had reeds wrapped around my lap to keep the chill off. The only light in the hut was the dawn coming in, which she was using to draw lines of white down my face. As we sat there I heard a whirring sound from far off. I remember Akira’s dark eyes meeting mine, questioning. No beast in Africa makes such a noise. It grew louder quickly.

We are too young to recognize the devils’ chariots but there are others in the village with longer memories and their cries erupted around us.

It was a horror. I ducked out of the hut leaving Akira to clean up the chalk, and my eyes were met by an awful sight—one of the Elders had Sishi’s daughter in his hand and was slashing her cheeks with his belt knife, a grim look on his face as she screamed and tried to twist away.

“What is this madness!” I cried, running to her side and trying desperately to loosen his iron grip. He turned to look at me. His eyes were impassive until they lit with fury at the sight of my unmarked face. Quick as an adder he slashed my left cheek, leaving a shallow cut—a scar I wear to this day.

Crying out I dropped the child’s arm, my hand going to my cheek and coming away smeared with blood.

“The devils are coming,” he snapped at me, “It is your Curse that tempts them—only blood will keep you safe now!”

Dropping Sishi’s girl, he strode off across the village and as my gaze followed I saw that he was not alone—all the Elders of our tribe were stalking the space between the huts, entering inside to drag out the inhabitants. Only those with plate lips or other disfigurements were spared.

To my horror, the worst was yet to come. The whirring sound from above turned into a large bird on the horizon. It grew and grew until it was a monstrosity hovering over the village, its drone so loud it drowned out the wails of the injured women and children below.

Akira was behind me, crouched in the doorway. The way she held her face in shadows made the Elders skip over her, and I, believing them touched by cow-disease or madness, hid her partially from view—my cut face obvious and dripping, blood mixed with chalk-paint so they could clearly see I was “cured”.

The monster came to land beside our hut, on the outskirts of the village, and from within emerged demons bearing spears that shot evil magic at our people. The warriors of our village shot at them with rifles and Sishi’s husband came running at one with a knife but the demon laughed with a loud gargling noise and brushed him aside.

They struck down many and then took those they wanted the most into their bird-creature. Ash was one of the chosen—he fought but they captured him and placed him, spear and all, inside.

That is when I made my move—I snuck up behind one of them, and with a cry of anguish for my brother, I pierced the back of the demon’s scull with my knife. The leader of them, this Captain Nask, he did not like this. He stopped laughing when I killed the demon and instead began to gather his slaves together and back up into the ship. I waited an instant after they disappeared and then leapt up as the bird began to rise in the air—determined to follow and rescue my brother.”

When she finished speaking, the deck was silent for a moment. Lissa wondered if she would have had the gumption to do that—grab the landing skid of a moving space ship and climb aboard an alien vessel after someone she loved. Primitives they might be, but they were no cowards, these Mursi people.

“But…the ship that landed and picked you up—that wasn’t the Forty-Five,” Stephanie said, confused, “This boat can’t land, except on water. And you said it made a whirring sound?”

“It was a helicopter,” Ash told them, “Shika has never seen one before, but I had. It was an Earth machine, and it had a human pilot. Once we were aboard, the pirates used some kind of magic to bring us here.”

“The same gold glowy thingy that got us,” Lissa said to Stephanie, who nodded, but she looked troubled at the idea of humans helping Nask catch slaves on Earth.

“Now what do you want to do?” Lissa asked at last. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Mr. Piff still stood close by. He must have heard the tale Shika told. She wondered briefly what he thought so far of the Earthlings he had helped to set free.

“You plan to travel out there?” Ash asked her, his black eyes large and intent.

“If I can, yes,” Lissa nodded.

“We will come with you,” Ash nodded. He spoke to Shika for a moment, and she nodded as well.

Shiro was also in accord, but he added, “Rasta may stay inside the cage for now. She will need food soon, however.”

“Rasta is your bird?” Lissa wanted to know.

“She is a golden eagle,” Shiro said proudly.

“I’m sure we can capture enough food for her before we leave,” Lissa assured him, “We will need to go planetside for supplies first anyway.”

“Lissa, we can’t just go flying off into space!” Stephanie cut in angrily, “We need to go home. What about our parents? Your mom is probably freaking out right now.”

“I know,” Lissa whispered, turning away from the others, “We’ll go home first. I just—come on Steph! I’d be totally crazy not to want to fly this thing. Don’t you wan to know what’s out there?”

As they argued, the Space Patrol Captain—Lissa realized she still did not know his name—stepped up to Mr. Piff and began to confer with him in low guttural hisses and squeaks. At last Arthur spoke up for the first time, “There is another task you may have to undertake first,” he told Lissa, “Your Representative has made contact with the Earth President and they are searching for an Ambassador to represent Earth on Sagittarius Prime.”

“Do we need to shuttle them there?” Lissa inquired, “We have room for another passenger, I think,” she had poked around and found several comfortable quarters on the port side of below decks.

“First the choice must be made,” Mr. Piff told her, “As the nearest neutral authority, we were asked to make a recommendation. The Captain and I have nominated you for the position.”

“What!” Lissa cried, jumping up, “I can’t be an ambassador—I’m eleven! Oh, for the love of Google.” She threw up her hands helplessly, “Mr. Piff, I’m just a kid. In Earth years I’m barely adolescent. Nobody in their right mind will elect me.”

“Galactic Trade Company regulations require that any ambassador from newly-invited worlds be under the age of puberty,” Arthur told her, smiling slightly at her reaction, “It is their way of guaranteeing the pliability of the victim…excuse me, species representative.” There was a twinkle in his eye.

“Figures,” Lissa muttered. Indeed, this was just what she should have expected of such a corrupt bureaucracy!

“You are the perfect choice,” Mr. Piff told her sternly, bringing her mind back to the present, “You’re not a whimpering pup—you’ve got gumption and intelligence enough to do the job proper.”

Lissa shook her head. She tried to think of a better option, but all that came to mind was the simpering face of a teenybopper celebrity. Ugh! She thought, anything but that.

Stephanie interjected, “You are the best choice, Lissa. You can get along with anybody, or anything,” she added, glancing around at their alien companions, “If it was me, I’d probably insult someone before I even had a chance to say hello. I’m too impetuous.”

Lissa sighed, “What happened to wanting to go home?” She demanded. Stephanie crossed her arms and gave her friend a pointed glare.

“Fine! I’ll try it,” she said. Her chin came up and she looked Arthur square in the middle of his four eyes, “But you better hope that space is ready for us.”

“Then perhaps it is time you were introduced to the last member of your company,” Mr. Piff said, and he jerked his head toward the octopus tank.