starcustard (act 1)

chapter two

Optional music track: 'Jeff Beck - Where Were You?'

Mars still had the crowbar in one hand. He had used it to break a few locks, bend a few rules. It felt good to grip the metal, even if it meant having to type his signals one-handed and nudge two or three knobs at once with various fingers. The boy didn't notice Gen's tears until their spacepod was well out of sight of the ship, and instead of intruding with questions, he let her cry and tried not to think about what would happen if--no, he corrected himself, not if--when he was discovered missing. He had known slavekids who had tried to escape, and they had never come back or been heard from again.

Gen had taken off the head of her spacesuit to rub her eyes. She wanted to take off the rest of the ugly thing, but since she didn't know what was going to happen or what she might have to do next, she kept it on and watched Mars between her sniffles. When she stopped crying, she asked him where they were going.

He only shrugged.

* * *

Somewhere quite far away, in a control room on the third floor of the Slavekid Card Authority Office Spacestation 1.48, two thin, pasty aliens sat in cushy swivel chairs and monitored what might be called, and not without reason, their empire. One of them was bald, and the other was not quite, but very nearly bald. Although the billions of slavekid cards they traded each day legally belonged to their many and various clients, ultimate power belonged to them. And the development of the microbioelectronics industry had given them so much power. So much dreadfully, dreadfully painful to think about power.

'Two runaways in sector 974BS9,' one of the aliens said to the other. 'Oh, wait, one's been caught and identified already, I see.'

'Alert the cardholders anyway. Both of them.'

The first alien did so, typing a sequence of codes into his automessenger. 'Ha. First one's had it returned, but we'll have to punish it for him, no doubt. Let me verify the circumstances on that first though. And Cardholder Two, I see, didn't even notice their slavekid was missing. High-end client, that one.'

'What's the name?'

'Nousu. Gilt H. Nousu. Asks if we'll be so kind as to take care of it for him.'

'With pleasure,' our second alien replied. 'Give me the coordinates and the card code.'

'Why don't you take care of the punishment for the other first? Let me get check there's no one in 974BS9 who's immediately interested in a deviant slavekid. No need to kill the thing if we can get something out of it, eh?'

'Alright, alright.' And while one alien searched the black market classifieds, the other measured out a dose of high voltage e-punishment, uploaded it through his handheld device, and with a few clicks and an evil laugh, sent it to slavekid 5326R, who just fifteen minutes ago had wandered more than thirty yards from his cardholder and got lost in a toyshop.

No suitable Wanted ads were found, and both executives turned their attention to the other slaveboy, the truly escaped one.

* * *

'Why did you help me?' Gen wanted to know. Her eyes were red and her face streaked all over from crying.

'I just--well, you're such a cute girl. And so sad all the time.'

Gen sniffed. Mars grinned at her and dug a tissue out of the compartment under the control board.

'Thank you,' she said. 'Are you really in danger? Will you really get caught?'

'What do you think? You saw what happened back there. Neon and Orph, they didn't know what they were getting into, acting like that. Look what they sta--ahh arrhrhhrfrifrifreiihnooooooooooooooo Nooooopleeeeeeeeaaaaaspleepuleezznonoo oh.'

Gen did not want to watch. Her eyes begged her to turn away, but she stayed motionless, looking at Mars, watching his skin turn deep red-brown and then a crispy, horrifying black while he screamed to nobody for mercy. His scream stopped suddenly, cut off as if by some terrible, invisible guillotine. Gen stared, so frightened she could not move or think or breath. She didn't dare to. Nothing Gen had ever witnessed before in her life had been as traumatic as watching Mars suddenly die less than ten inches away from her. It took her three and a half long, silent minutes before she let out her breath.

Then the whole world shook.

* * *

Optional music track: 'Blur - Ambulance.'

An odd-looking ship was currently gliding through space. It was odd in the way that it looked quite a bit like a potato; one of those large, deformed, knobbly ones, except it was as black as coal, and the knobbly bits glowed an alien green. It also had tubes sticking out of it in places. It was such a ridiculous shape, it was a wonder that it worked at all. The ship had clearly been built by someone with an unusual sense of humour.

That someone was Doctor Gregarium, who was currently clipping his toenails.

His big toenail was being the most awkward. It wasn't a cleanish cut like the others; he had to pull and twist at it because it was so tough. He managed a corner, and it struck all four office walls before bouncing out of the room entirely.

The office was a concoction of burgundy and teal, with sharp, angular furniture, various trinkets and gadgets, and rather surprised-looking portraits on the walls, presumably of family. The large, austere desk was covered with paper--lots of documents, letters, essays and notes-to-self--that spilled over onto the floor and made entry and exit a particularly exciting affair; there were a couple of teal lamps in the shape of elephants, some stationary and, presently, his foot, which happened to be attached to his leg, and if you followed this, you would arrive at the rest of him, seated in a large, leather swivel chair.

When stood, he was quite tall. He was a bespectacled man who looked neither young nor old, and a slight smile always troubled his lips, a mix between the inquisitive and the amused. His ears were slightly pointed and his eyes were a clear grey. His hair was in tall, thin spikes; silver, tipped with red, giving a strong impression of surgical implements. He wore, at this moment, dark trousers, one shiny black shoe (the other had been tossed aside for the time being), and a brightly coloured t-shirt. He also wore a lab coat, so as to feel he was doing his title of 'doctor' justice.

The nail-clippers chewed experimentally on some more nail. Pinch, pinch, pinch... Nope, absolutely useless. Maybe if he had a bath first it would soften it up a bit?

'ALERT,' announced a decidedly feminine computer's voice. 'WASTE SHUTE CLOGGED. SHIP CONSTIPATED. ALERT. PLEASE ATTEND TO IMMEDIATELY.'

'Oh my,' said Gregarium, only half pulling on his sock before speeding out to investigate.

* * *

Organza opened the door a crack.

All seemed clear.

Then she stuck out her head and peered around with smudgy black eyes.

All seemed clear.

Then she cautiously slid out and made for the stairs, where she was ambushed by the kitchen staff and pelted with mouldy waste food.

'Argh,' she said, spinning around wildly and retreating back to her room, leaving a trail of multicoloured slippers behind her.

* * *

Optional music track : 'Stereophonics - I'm Alright (You Gotta Go There To Come Back).'

Mars' scorched corpse flopped to one side.

Gen's stare remained locked on it as she pressed herself hard against the wall, as far away as possible.

After the shaking had subsided, the terrible noise that came with it had turned to a calm hum. There was a faraway clunk; Gen gasped.

After a while, there came a strange noise of suction, a bleep, and the escape pod's door swung open.

'Hello?' said Gregarium, poking his head through. He saw Gen and looked at her inquisitively. When he saw the corpse beside her, however, his face went whiter than it already was, an eyebrow raised tentatively in incomprehension. 'Oh my,' he whispered.

He looked back to Gen, his face questioning, which he quickly checked when he saw her expression. 'I...I think you'd better come with me,' he said. 'I...We'll...yes. I think it would be best to get you out of that pod, and...and then we can...Yes. Let's get you out of there.' He offered a hand, glancing again at Mars.

Gen was unsure; this man might not be safe. He only had one shoe on. However, she wanted to get as far away as possible from the dead body, and so reluctantly stepped out, leaving the head of her suit behind.

'Hm, yes,' Gregarium said, ponderously. 'Come this way. I think if we leave...yes.'

Gen turned to face Mars for one last time. She blinked slowly. She felt numb, as if she had just woken up from a daytime nap consisting of several nightmares. Everything seemed so unnaturally quiet now. She did not even have the energy to shed tears. Gregarium closed the pod and placed his arm on her shoulder, gently steering her away.

They travelled along a wide, gently rising, cylindrical corridor and up some steps until they arrived in a small room with a large, holographic screen on the wall they had entered through.

Gregarium carefully lowered himself to his knee so that he was level with her. He fixed his eyes her, and she looked back with her own eyes wide and scared. 'I mean no imposition,' he said gently, 'and I'm not quite sure how your vessel managed to...to end up where it is, but I'm afraid it can't stay there. This is not for any reason to do with myself not feeling the deepest, most profound sympathies for your...your friend,' he said, treading carefully with his words, 'but it will do serious damage to my ship if it is there for much longer. If you would rather have the body brought aboard, of course that is what we will do, but we can release the pod and I assure you that it will be a departure of the most respectful kind. Would you like to do that?'

Gen nodded, almost as if she had not heard. Gregarium guided her to a large window opposite the screen, and she slowly made her way to it.

He pressed some keys.

Gen saw one of the tubes sticking out directly below her. There was a deep rumble and she saw the escape pod fired silently into the vast emptiness of space.

'WASTE SHUTE CLEARED.'

She pressed her hand against the glass and watched Mars depart forever. Her head filled with dizzy tiredness and, releasing a small sigh, she collapsed.

* * *

When she awoke, it was in a very white room, filled with lots of fluorescent lights. Her head hurt. So did her ankle. 'Ow,' she said, shielding her eyes with an arm. She was on a bed. The soft sheets beneath her were almost as dazzlingly bright as the lights. Her spacesuit had been removed and she was in her white pyjamas. She now also had the addition of large socks.

At that moment, the Doctor entered. He had both shoes on. 'Ah,' he said, 'You're awake. How do you feel?'

'Ow,' Gen repeated. 'Where am I?'

'This is the White Room,' he explained, unhelpfully.

'My head hurts,' said Gen.

'Oh. Would you like me to leave you to sleep it off?'

'In here? No! I mean... no thank you. Er. I'm alright now. I think.'

'Right. Well. I hope your feet are warmer now. They were almost blue. Would you like me to show you around my ship? It may have occurred to you that you don't actually know who I am. I am Doctor Gregarium.' He proffered a hand. 'You are?'

She took his hand. 'Gen,' she said, gazing distractedly at his hair.

'Follow me, Gen,' he said, pulling her up to her feet. She was glad to be leaving the room. On her way out, she tripped over a light that protruded unnecessarily from the floor with the foot she had already twisted. 'Ow.'

She then found herself in a huge, open space, with a beige marble floor, a dark dome with a great iron framework for a roof, and lots of little doors lining the edges where the two met, leading off to the rest of the ship.

Gregarium scampered across this hallway to a door somewhere on the right. In her attempt to keep up with him, Gen found herself sliding uncontrollably in the wrong direction. Gregarium managed to grab her by the wrist just in time, and Gen then let herself be pulled the correct way.

'And there was I thinking that socks were such a good idea,' remarked the Doctor.

Optional music track: 'Radiohead - Where I End and You Begin.'

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