Captain Bob Presents: Tales from Planet X by Resha Caner

They let him into a small room to await his sentence. At least that was the reason they gave for making him wait. He suspected his fate had been determined some time ago, and other issues delayed his execution.

For example, what were they going to do with his toxic cargo? Without him to transport it away, his captors faced a moral dilemma. Law prohibited its being disposed of here. Law also forbade dumping it on those who did not understand its deadly possibilities.

It meant the cargo would sit untouched on the dock until... until someone like himself could be found to steal it. Living in the real world while maintaining high moral values required a delicate balance. Nick Drake had been given his role.

Nick Drake never followed the rules. The time had come for him to reflect. It seemed the thing to do while waiting to hear a judge announce his execution. He looked about for a place to seat himself in a philosophical posture, but the room afforded no such luxuries.

Not only was the room small, but the table and chair were small as well. Nick stood six feet four inches - when allowed to stand. The ceiling only rose above the floor by maybe four feet, and the chair looked like something he had forsaken after kindergarten. With their small stature, hairy faces, and tails, the Carelians reminded Nick of beavers. They even lived in crude houses of mud and sticks built above the soupy chaos of the planets boiling surface. The Carelians were not the intriguing aliens he had pictured as a young boy on planet Earth.

Life was full of disappointments.

* * *

Does everyone have their seat? Remember, we need to be quiet when the red light goes on. Mrs. Hodges paced nervously before her fourth grade class, repeating the same phrases over and over again. She rubbed her hands, tried to flatten her dress over an ample stomach, then stroked her fingers through flat, blond hair. Her hands never stopped moving. Does everyone have their seat?

This is going to be so cool! Nick whispered to Ben, his best friend.

We need to be quiet when the red light goes on! Mrs. Hodges emphatically reminded Nick, then pressed a fat finger against her sweaty lips.

Nick bulged out his eyes, and mocked her gesture. Her face darkened in a scowl, and she half-stepped over the front row of children to reach him, but the curtain opened. Her face froze in fright, and she tried to balance precariously on a single foot. Nick laughed. She looked like the wax figure of Aunt Polly from the Mark Twain museum.

With bared teeth and a wagging finger, Mrs. Hodges slowly retreated, then pointed toward the glowing red light atop the television camera. The show was starting. This was going to be so cool. Only a privileged few ever got to see Captain Bob in person.

A man dressed head to toe in what could have been cheap aluminum foil pranced onto the stage. The whole class erupted in laughter and yelps. Morris, Captain Bobs co-pilot, tried to make his way to center stage, but a stray wire was wrapped around his leg. The faces of all the kids drew rigid with shock, and several hands waved frantically, trying to get Morris attention. He gave a bewildered what? kind of stare back at the kids, and continued on his way until the wire drew taut, and he tumbled to the ground.

Laughter echoed from wall to wall.

Morris! Captain Bob called from off stage. Morris! the children repeated.

Captain Bob appeared with a grim frown and his hands on his hips. He waited for the applause to die down. In that time, Nick studied him. He was smaller than Nick had expected, and he looked funny under the bright lights with heavy makeup. His uniform was not as dazzling as it appeared on a living room television, and Nick could even make out a few stains and repairs.

The clapping subsided, and Captain Bob rubbed his thick beard in frustration. He always rubbed his beard when Morris messed up.

Morris, he repeated, You just ruined my new experiment. Now well have to start over.

What experiment is that, Captain Bob? Morris anxiously leapt to his feet.

Captain Bob looked at Mrs. Hodges fourth grade class. His frown turned to a smile. He tilted his head jovially, and stepped to the edge of the stage.

Can you help me clean up the mess Morris has made?

Yaaaay!!!! everyone responded with high pitched warbles.

Ill need a special helper today, because were going to...

Planet X!!!! Nicks classmates screamed. Nick analyzed the scene.

Captain Bob marched off stage, and Morris stepped forward. His voice deepened, and he leaned seriously toward the children. Thats right, kids. Its time for... Captain Bob Presents: Tales From Planet X! But first, a word from our sponsor.

Cut! called a voice from off-stage. Sets! someone else yelled.

Morris immediately ripped the aluminum foil from his head, and turned to someone crossing the stage with a clipboard. Sweat poured from the dark-brown hair onto his pasty face. Blast it, Stan. Cant Morris wear headgear that breathes?

The stagehand gave an anxious look toward the children, then rushed to Morris side to whisper something in his ear. Morris looked out at the kids, snarled, and stomped off.

So it was just cheap aluminum foil. If Morris didnt wear a real space helmet...

Nick watched skeptically as the walls of Captain Bobs Scientific Lab rolled away, flapping like a discarded candy wrapper in the breeze. A cardboard Star Quest, Captain Bobs speedy spacecraft, rumbled in to replace it. Painted pictures embedded with tacky lights blinked condescendingly. Nick grew sullen. Mrs. Hodges didnt need to remind him about the red light when the show came back from a commercial.

Memories of last Christmas returned. Nick couldnt wait to spend Christmas with his new foster family. Yet Santa didnt come because his foster parents didnt want to encourage belief in myths; they didnt go to a church or sing carols because established religion harbored hypocrites; he didnt get the laser pistol he wanted because it cultivated violence. Even the tree was plastic.

The world teemed with fakes and frauds, but Captain Bob claimed he had really traveled in outer space.

Now, who will be my helper today? Captain Bob asked.

Everyones hand shot up except for Nick. Ben elbowed him, but he only sunk lower into his chair, crossing his arms and dropping his chin.

Whats the matter, young man? Captain Bob asked. A hush came in a rapid rush of whispers, and all eyes turned to Nick. Would you like to be my helper?

Mrs. Hodges left her chair, shaking her head, waving her hands, and mouthing No. Captain Bob ignored her.

Whats your name, young man?

Nick, he mumbled. He rose from his chair. Captain Bob smiled, holding out a welcoming hand. Nick ignored him, staring at the captains broad palm and stubby fingers. This is going to be a great adventure, son. I promise.

I promise. The words rang in Nicks ears. Looking up at Captain Bob with clenched teeth, he started to shake. I promise. He was a fake.

Nick rushed the stage, not knowing why. Tears forced themselves from his eyes, wedging in his eyelashes and blinding his mad attack. He took the stage in a single leap, and Captain Bob stumbled to one side. Nick went straight for the painted hatch of the Star Quest, and kicked through the set. His foot pierced the thin wall easily, and he lost his balance, tangling arms and legs with the shredded set, bringing everything down with a crash. Vaulting back to his feet, he cried out, Its all fake! Everything is fake!

* * *

I am so sorry, Captain Bob, Mrs. Hodges fretted. She paced back and forth, wringing her hands, smoothing her dress, not giving the slightest attention to the scratches on Nicks arms and legs. I am so sorry. I assure you he will be thoroughly punished. You have to understand. Nick is a foster child. You know how these things go.

Really? Captain Bob asked as if truly amazed. He carefully placed a bandage on Nicks arm, then put a hand under his chin, forcing Nick to meet his eyes. You could say Im in foster care as well.

You are? Mrs. Hodges said with a startled look.

In a way. I dont really ever seem to fit anywhere. You know I wasnt born on Earth...

Youre lying! Nick shouted.

Mr. Drake! Mrs. Hodges reached for Nicks arm.

Captain Bob waved off the teacher. Its alright, Mrs. Hodges. I know how the boy feels.

No you dont, Nick stated, spittle flying from his lips. He wiped his mouth, then brushed back a tear. He wouldnt let this fake see how disappointed he was.

I have something to show you, Nick. Captain Bob rose.

Nick didnt follow, so Captain Bob held out a hand. Come with me.

Is that wise? Mrs. Hodges asked.

I can handle him, Captain Bob responded without looking at her. Guys like us, we need to stick together. Right, Nick?

Nick could feel the mans unending gaze burning into the top of his head. Grown-ups were not to be trusted. Every day he saw reports on television about how astronauts were pushing farther and farther into deep space. Amazing new technologies carried man beyond Pluto, beyond Alpha Centauri, to places no one had ever imagined possible. Maybe it was only imagination. Maybe everything was fake.

Captain Bob continued to stare at him. Nick couldnt see anything but the Captains boots, but he could feel his eyes. He tried, but couldnt resist and looked up. Clenching his jaw, he nodded. He would go look, but he wouldnt believe.

* * *

Nick Drake stood on the bridge of the Queenfish. Twenty years had passed since he last saw Captain Bob, but he still kept a small token with him everywhere he went. The small lead vial contained something the captain said he had found when he was just a boy. The contents had changed Nicks life.

The vial was designed with a special little window. A push of a button revealed the strangest red glow. Or was it orange? Or yellow? Nick never could figure out exactly what color it was. Even the grown-ups who saw it would jerk their head to an odd angle, push the button several times, then hand it back to Nick with a smile. Thats a nice flashlight you have there, son. But Nick could tell. The odd light puzzled them as much as him.

When Captain Bob handed it to him, he pointed to the sky. I have been there, Nick. It was many years ago, but I have been there. I want you to make me a promise. Dont stop believing until the light in this little container goes out.

Nick pulled the vial from his pocket and clicked the button. It glowed. Of course he now knew what it was. A short distance from the planet Carel, in the brutal center of the Milky Way where star clusters still battled and raged for dominance, lay fields of rich fissionable fuel. Mined properly, with the reaction already underway, it was priceless; Carel had enough to power an entire galaxy.

But there was a problem. The Carelians, the only intelligent life in this part of the galaxy, held it a crime to mine fission fuel. Where the Carelians lived, the stability of planets could not be taken for granted. Life here required rigid adherence to a specific set of rules. Everyone was assigned a position at birth and was expected to do their duty to the very letter of the law. Any infraction meant death.

The Carelians had determined the mining and transport of fission fuel too much of a risk for them to bear. Only one mistake, the smallest mistake, and their entire culture would end in a measureless flash of infinitesimal time.

When Nick first found the Carelians, he doubted them to be an intelligent life form. Their pontificating upon his arrival had amused him; these small, powerless creatures demanding he follow their rules. Politics being what they were, other forces obliged him to obey.

Yet Nick Drakes luck surpassed any captain who ever flew this quadrant. He knew how to steer a space ship, and he learned how to navigate around the rules. He returned the vial to his pocket, his good luck ritual complete, and signaled to the helmsman. Take her by.

Ben Manson nodded, and pressed gently forward on the lever under his right hand - the only right hand Nick trusted. Only his friendship with Ben had survived these many years. The bulky freighter objected to the tender caresses, but finally conceded to the laws of physics and began a clumsy, rumbling slide past the planet.

If people could just steal fission fuel, they would. Unfortunately, Carel lay on the only navigable path in and out of the star clusters. As soon as someone found another way in, or found another cluster capable of mining, Carel would be out of business.

A light began to blink on the panel before Nick. He looked down at the console to watch the clock. At the proper moment, he opened the radio channel. Queenfish requesting permission to pass.

Who rides the Queenfish?

It didnt matter who worked the controls on Carels surface. Everyone knew the captain of the Queenfish. Nick sighed, tired of performing this ritual for... he quickly did some counting on his fingers... for the six-hundred and thirty-third time.

This is Captain Nick Drake.

Are all quadrants secure, Captain Drake?

All quadrants secure.

Any passengers, Captain Drake?

Yes. One. He looked to his right where a Taelar wrapped blue tentacles around nervous eye stalks. Slethos of Taelarot.

Please provide proper credentials.

Nick operated his computer to transmit a copy of the Taelar deed. While it may be illegal to transport fission fuel, it was not illegal to rent sections of the star clusters so entrepreneurs could engage in tourism. The Carelians made a nice profit from the rent, and they hired Nick as the sole pilot authorized to carry tourists and their guides in and out of the clusters.

Any souvenirs, Captain Drake?

None. It was a lie. In the hold of the Queenfish lay three tons of fission fuel. The foul creature whose slimy skin ate at the leather on Nicks deck chairs shook pathetically because he knew it was a lie.

Nick remained calm, because the Carelians knew it was a lie as well. Or, at least a few of them did. Whoever operated the radio from the planets surface knew. He would scan the Queenfish, and find no traces of illegal substances. He had never been asked to scan the Queenfish for a lead hull. He was not asked to deduce what a lead hull might be hiding. Like a good Carelian, he knew his place, and he only did what he was asked to do.

If Nick chose to lie, his conscience must bear the guilt. Carelian morals applied only to Carelians.

You have permission to pass.

The Taelar skin transpired into a pathetic yellow as his body flowed down into the chair, releasing a horrible stench.

Ahh, Ben objected. He turned to Nick. I told you not to schedule me for flights with this walking bowl of jello.

Nick smiled and shrugged.

The Queenfish shuddered.

What was that? The Taelar shot up in his chair, turning a fiery red.

What was that? Nick repeated the question to Ben as an undulating alarm filled the ship with a chest rattling buzz.

Ben scanned his gages, then turned to look at Nick, his face white as a sheet.

What?

I believe it was an asteroid, Ben explained. Weve taken a hit in the aft quarter panel. Were leaking.

Leaking! Nick left his station, hurrying to Bens side. Leaking what?

Fuel, Ben answered.

Nick made his own quick assessment, and found Bens one word to summarize it all. They were leaking ship fuel at an astronomical rate. It would all be gone before they could repair the ship in flight. Asteroid hits were common in the star clusters, but they were not common to Nick Drake. His luck never gave out. Never.

I dont believe it! He slammed a fist down onto the panel.

Are we going to crash? The aliens warbling voice barely passed a whisper.

Of course not, Nick growled. What kind of a captain do you think I am? We can set down on Carel for repairs.

So? The creature chose his most obnoxious color.

Were leaking fuel. Nick slapped the console, then pointed a finger at the Taelar. Your fuel.

* * *

Ben would be released. The Taelar would be released, though his deed would be revoked. Nick was the captain of the Queenfish, and he alone would bear the punishment. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the vial, and clicked the button. It glowed that strange reddish, orangeish... Nick heaved the vial against the wall.

What is that blasted color? Maybe the Taelar could describe it.

He dropped his head into his hands, trying to wipe away the anguish. He was going to die. It sounded so simple - so easy. The Carelians would figure something out. They didnt need him. Maybe they would ask Ben to fly the repaired freighter back into the star cluster and replace the stolen, toxic material. They would have a new captain, and the galaxy would go on without a single notice that Nick Drake ever existed. No one cared. No one had ever cared. His worth didnt last any longer than his access to the star clusters.

He was crying. He couldnt believe he was crying. The pain in his chest grew and grew until he couldnt bear it any longer. The small vial lay neglected in a corner. Maybe now was the time. Before releasing the container into Nicks care, Captain Bob had made him promise never to break the little window. It didnt matter now. Better to end it sooner than later.

Someone else was in the room. Nicks head shot up. He quickly wiped away the tears to see an old, gray Carelian leaning on a walking stick. He was huge. At least, he was huge for a Carelian. He had to stoop to avoid the ceiling.

The old creature shuffled forward, his kind face fixed on Nick the whole time. I told you never to puncture the window in that vial, or the results would be disastrous.

Captain Bob? Nick couldnt believe he was saying that name. It couldnt be him. It simply couldnt.

Yes, Captain Bob nodded. Im a Carelian. I told you my time on Earth was like foster care. Look at how tall I am. Too tall to live here. Too short to live there. No one ever found me a place. A Carelian with no plan to live by is... nothing.

I... What...? How did you get here?

Im here to set you free, Captain Bob said.

Nick shook his head. Theyll never agree to it, he said. You should know that. Someone has to die for this crime.

Yes, Captain Bob nodded, rubbing his beard. This is quite a mess, and someone has to clean it up. Someone has to die. Im here to pay your debts.

Copyright S 2008 by Resha Caner