Death by Poodle

by jinnis

Alright, I promised you the story of the regrettable fate of the marigan fleet. It's complicated, though—and it contains a few scenes you wouldn't want your grandmother to witness. Unless your grandmother is rss'h'ss, of course. But that's another story. As the only rss'h'ss around is Hrrovr, and he's definitely not his grandma, I'll begin at the beginning.

We were on our way back from a peaceful and only slightly illegal trade visit to the young and totally illegal tyrinian colony on Sqia'lon Seven, when Aalyxh had the glorious idea to visit her adopted shi'a godchild. Now, a twenty-four tentacled giant baby space squid is an interesting relation to have, even for a yuuol. But her Bubu, as our pilot used to call the monstrosity, had been supplying us with corbomite before, a substance in shi'a turd. Point is, pure corbomite is worth its weight in gold on the outer rim, where this essential component for hyper drive fuel is scarcer than pink huffalumps, as Ben would say.

I wouldn't be the captain of the Topsy-turvy if I wouldn't be prone to run a little side business. And while the Tanencha had kept her promise and the Sqia people had paid us in full for our contraband delivery of toddler space slugs to fight a nasty crop disease, we could use a little extra tradable corbomite in case we ran out of luck.

Ben, our human engineer, sang his goodbyes to the Sqia communication officer while Ajs An'Hlj, the resident tyrinian, mind-talked with her cousins, perched on the headrest of Ben's chair as usual, leaving a track of blue slime on its sleek surface.

I still didn't grasp how Ben had overcome his initial disgust of Ajs' slime, but here he was, treating her as his favourite apprentice. Human psychology will remain an eternal mystery.

Our pilot, Aalyxh, lounged in her seat, her six limbs knotted in the complicated tangle yuuol called relaxing, while the Topsy-turvy set course for the Harare nebula. Number one Hrrovr launched the ship into hyperspace and leaned back in his chair, turquoise belly scales rustling. "That's'ss it. Nex'ss'st s'sstop Harare."

"Great. I'll take the chance and go underwater for a few clicks. Call me if you need me."

As usual, I felt like I had only just clambered into my sleeping tank when the comm called me back to the bridge. Still dripping wet, I wriggled into my coverall. "Captain here. What's up?"

"A distress call, Cap." Ben's sonorous voice made even this short message sound like a song.

"In hyperspace?" It was almost unheard of. Not wasting time with waiting for an answer, I sprinted to the bridge. The fresh pine needle scent told me Hijac was already on station, their olfactory anticipation filling the room.

"Captain, we have a ship or something similar drifting in the bubble." The karjkan scientist called up an image on the main screen. "They must have broken down in transit."

"Thanks, Hijac. In our bubble? How big is the chance for this?"

"Stop it, Kali, or they will deliver the exact numbers." Aalyxh scrambled into the pilot's seat. "Isn't it a tad tiny for a ship?"

"Looks'ss more like a res'sscue pod." With Hrrovr striding to his place, emerald scales rattling, the entire crew was assembled.

As usual, Ajs perched on the top of Ben's chair, her eyestalks scanning the screen over the engineer's shoulder. "Cap Kali, the thing is painted in the Alliance's colours."

The tyrinan was right, and so was Hrrovr. Hijac's glands emitted a peppery smell of curiosity. The smokey female voice of his speech box confirmed what I had guessed from their scent. "Wonder how they got lost in hyperspace without a means of propulsion. Can we pick them up?"

Aalyxh and Hrrovr exchanged glances. "If Ben reduces hyper drive power without breaking out of the bubble, Hrrovr might snatch them up with the grippers in passing."

The pilot didn't mention the dangers of breaking out of a hyperspace bubble at unplanned coordinates or the manoeuvring skills needed to bring the Topsy close enough without hitting the pod. I studied the rainbow sheen on Hijac's unreadable compound eyes, took in their tarry worry overlaid with a minty hint of excitement, and listened to my gut. "Fine, let's do it."

Ben was already on the way to the engine room, little Ajs slithering along.

Moments later, Hrrovr's grippers clamped around the pod and a metallic clank resonated through the ship as he anchored it against the hull. Ben increased the thrust, and we were on our way.

There was no possibility of finding out what our prize contained while caught in the anomaly of a hyperspace bubble. But when we dropped out, Aalyxh knotted her limbs in her trance position and rolled back her four eyes until only the veined, blueish orbs could be seen. We waited on the verdict of our thought-telepath with bated breath.

"She's alive, sort of. Hyperspace trauma and dehydration are my guess."

Once more, my crew proved they didn't need a captain. Hijac and Ajs were already on the way to the cargo bay while Aalyxh, Hrrovr, and Ben choreographed the ship's movements to nudge the pod to the aft cargo port. With a feeling of thorough uselessness I joined the impromptu welcome committee. Ajs with her sterilising slime and Hijac with his indestructible chitinous body armour hadn't bothered to suit up. I couldn't risk the same, and when I had squeezed my still-damp limbs into the suit and clicked the helmet seal, the others had already opened the egg-like pod in the glaring pink and orange design of the Alliance flag.

The sivvinian woman they pulled from it looked as if she'd seen a ghost. I couldn't blame her. An insectoid karjkan and the slug-like tyrinian could give any inhabitant of the central worlds the impression of being caught in a living nightmare.

I stepped forward. "Welcome aboard the Topsy-turvy. I'm captain Kalina ap'Theron. What happened?"

The woman's eyes turned yellow, and she crumpled to the floor.

I left our guest in the capable hands of Hijac and Ajs. Back on the bridge, chaos engulfed me—or the ship. All I could see on the main screen were tentacles in all the colours I could imagine, fitted with giant sucker cups, wriggling and twisting around each other in a nauseating dance.

"Lyxh, what have you got us into this time?"

Aalyxh snorted through her double nose. "Nothing. I just called Bubu, but it seems she has found a companion."

"Wait, she's already old enough to mate? How's that possible?" I slumped into the captain's chair but threw my weight back when a giant yellow sucker cup landed on the hull camera and deprived us of the view.

"Ben, revers'sse thrus'sst, we need to get dis'sstanc'sse.'"

I couldn't more agree with my number one. While the ship broke free from the space squid's sucky embrace, I glared at Aalyxh. "Lyxh, tell them to go play elsewhere. They'll crush our ship."

The pilot rolled her eyes. "No need to worry, Kali. They are oblivious to everything and everyone while the mating ecstasy lasts. I'm afraid we won't get corbomite this time."

"Blast the corbomite, as long as they don't wreck the Topsy."

Hijac's modulated voice interrupted our argument. "Captain? Can you Jon us in the guest cabin?"

"On my way. Lyxh, please set course for—well, somewhere safe without squids, pirates, or space patrols. Ben, join me, if you would."

I didn't tell him I hoped his innocent, soft human features might work wonders on our frightened sivvinian.

They did. Hijac had completed contamination and wrapped the woman in one of my fluffy bathrobes. I couldn't help but admire his thoughtfulness. The sivvinian smiled. "Thank you for rescuing me, captain."

"You're welcome. How come you ended in hyperspace in a rescue pod? If we wouldn't have passed your bubble, you might have drifted into eternity."

"I know." Her pale green cheeks blushed a deep emerald. "I had to get away from my father. He insisted I marry the puruvian ambassador. If I'd known we'd already entered hyperspace, I'd waited. I suspect he had me drugged to break my resistance."

If he did, I got why she wanted to get away from him. The methane-breathing puruvians were not a nice species, and their planet was not a place any oxygen breather wished to visit. "Your father is beyond repair."

"Tell this to all the Alliance voters who just reaffirmed his third term of office."

Wow. She was the daughter of President Chik. "I'm sorry, Lady Chikko."

"Thanks, it is indeed a tough fate being the daughter of a wrecked personality of his format. But please call me Sima."

At least my remark hadn't got me on her bad side. She even eyed Hijac and Ajs with interest instead of horror now. Ben tried his trademark dimpled smile. "What can we do for you, Lady Sima?"

"Sima is sufficient, please. I would appreciate if you could drop me on a station in Union space."

"Are you sure? The Unionists might not welcome a high-ranking Allionist. But let's find something to eat for you and discuss later." I had seen my share of political complications, and had no interest in getting my ship or crew entangled in another intrigue. The AIP, the Alliance of Independent Planets and the SU, the Sentient Union had been at each other's throats since I had been a nestling on oola.

When Ben brought Sima to the bridge half a click later to introduce her to the crew, her green skin had taken on a healthier shade. She also was happy to share her story. To make it short, she was in a liaison with the son of a Union senator she had met on a diplomatic mission. Their parents disapproved, and that was that.

"Romeo and Juliette." Ben's remark led to raised brows, twisted eyestalks, and scale jingling until the engineer shrugged and gave an explanation. "It's an opera about two lovers who were forbidden to be together by their parents."

"Oh, funny you mention an opera. Belk is an assistant musical director of Scala station. We thought our relationship might help to build a lasting peace between the Alliance and the Union. But when my father received threats of a belligerent species called the marigans, he sought an alliance with the puruvians. They demanded me as a token of this ill-fitting association. As far as I know, they might eat their brides on the wedding night."

I had never bothered studying puruvian customs, but I could relate with her fears.

"S'sso you wish'ss to go to S'sscala s'sstation?" My first mate would be happy to fly anywhere as long as it was far from authorities.

"This would be wonderful. Unfortunately, they have a high security standard and allow only approved staff backstage. The performing artists excepted, of course."

I exchanged a glance with Aalyxh, and we both looked at Ben.

He threw up his hands in desperation. "No. I'm not keen on embarrassing myself again."

"You did a great job with the Sqia tune-language." Aalyxh was right.

The engineer shook his head and crossed his arms. "No. Singing for communication is another thing. What you want from me is ridiculous. I'm not pretending I'm an opera tenor."

Ajs sneaked up to his armrest with her eyestalks stretched to the maximum and her ultramarine lashes vibrating above moist eyeballs. I could see Ben's resolution waver.

And that's how we did it. Hijac added some finesse to a recording of Ben singing a classic human song called Baby Shark which won him an invitation for an audit.

On the great day, Aalyxh docked the Topsy at the Scala's outer ring visitor dock. Sima was supposed to pose as Ben's personal voice manager. If humans had karjk odour glands, we would have drowned in Ben's nervousness. But Ajs pulled her adorable puppy-eyed face, and he straightened his back and rode to battle, to use another weird human saying.

In the end, didn't have to sing. When he and Sima passed the controls and were admitted to the audit room, her Romeo rushed in to shower her with kisses and endearments.

Later, Ben reported the details of the smooching scene, his ears glowing like the red vegetables humans put on their pizza dough-wheels. Ajs' eyes were wide enough for me to realise that soon, we would have to teach our junior crew member about mating and reproduction.

What I didn't realise at the time was that the marigans had declared war on both the Alliance and Union and sent their battle fleet to wreak havoc on any sentient species in the western arm of the galaxy.

In the meantime, we accompanied Sima and Belk to Whitedream, the famous wedding planet. I he's been tempted to decline their invitation, but they insisted Ben had to perform, and with Ajs' nudging, the engineer couldn't deny the couple's request.

That's how Ben lost his virginity. Stage-wise, I mean. He did great, as expected, and got another invitation to audit at Scala, which he rejected with firm and polite words, proving humans can be good with words even when not singing and despite their clumsiness and irrationality.

I was glad, for as much as I enjoyed Ben's singing, I preferred hearing his voice with the background music of the Topsy's engines. So I picked up another drink, poised to wait for the end of the festivities. Instead, I witnessed the end of the marigan battle fleet.

Sima, in a bout of love and forgiveness, had invited both sides of their families, including the Alliance president, his current partner and several high ranking Union officers. Someone leaked this information and the marigan fleet changed course. Instead of heading for the Alliance's central planets, they focused their attack on Whitedream.

All eyes were on the reception when they breached the planet's defence line and swooped down on the guests.

Clueless of the imminent attack, I watched, Poodle, the president's current wife's pink pet apapa-shoo-doodle. He had befriended Ajs and Aalyxh who threw him chunks of sweet wedding cake. Happy about the treats, he bounced around on his jump legs like stung by a horobiss. Ajs' tossed another piece of cake and Poodle jumped, but instead of the sugary cake, he snatched up the marigan fleet, aiming for the president's left eye, and swallowed it whole.

When two days later, the tiny spaceships reappeared after their involuntary voyage through an apapa-shoo-doodle's winding digestive tract, they were in no shape to attack anything—which led to the newly coined bon mot "death by poodle."

Anyway, Sima convinced her father to offer us a substantial reward for deflecting a serious treat to the Alliance and his venerable person. The money couldn't outdo a lump of corbomite, but it would allow us another beach holiday on Chichigoon.

Of course, this wasn't meant to be.

We left Whitedream before the pompous after wedding Alliance-Union peace talks reached the stage of stagnation. Aalyxh set course for Chichigoon, and I daydreamed of burying my feet in the purple sand and sip on one of these drinks that come with little fruity bits in it when a sour candy smell announced Hijac's frustration.

"Captain? I receive the distress call of a severill ship. Seems they were damaged by a collision with a teacup. Or something."

And there went our holiday. Want to know what happened? Well, that's another story. One about space pirates, a weird yuuol dance ritual, and contraband rum. It also explains how Ben discovered an astounding property of Ajs' slime while teaching her about bees and flowers. Oh, and not to forget the bit about Hrrovr's grandma and her favourite tea service.

But before I start on that one, I need another drink.