Space Team: The Search for Splurt Read online

  The walls had been inexpertly painted in just the wrong shade of blue to be complimentary. Framed photographs hung on the wall, most of them showing Narp at different ages, wearing a number of variations on what looked like a school uniform.

  “Hey, is that you?” said Cal, studying one of the photographs. “You looked so cute. What happened?”

  “Narp? Narp, honey, is that you?”

  An elderly woman with the same yellow skin and ping-pong ball eyes shuffled out of a doorway along the wall. She wore a floral-patterned robe and matching slippers, and her short, graying hair was tied up in curlers. She smiled warmly when she saw the four strangers squeezed into the hallway behind her son.

  “Ah, yes. There you are.”

  “It’s OK, mom, it’s OK,” said Narp. “They’re just, uh, they’re friends of mine.

  Cal stepped forwards, all smiles. He took the woman’s hand and shook it. She matched his smile and flashed it right back at him.

  “Mrs… uh… Narp’s mom. We’ve heard so much about you. I’m--”

  “I know who you are,” she said. “You’re Cal Carver.”

  She leaned past Cal and looked at the others in turn. Her smile dipped when she saw Mizette. “Oh, my poor thing, I’m so sorry to hear about your father,” she said, then a frown flitted across her face. “Or… has that happened yet? It’s hard to keep track of it all sometimes.”

  “What?” said Miz, blinking in surprise. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

  “How do you know about that? How do you know who we are?” asked Cal. He looked back at Narp. “How does your mom know who we are? What is this?”

  “I used to be a Nun,” said Narp’s mom.

  Cal nodded slowly. “Right, well… that explains it?” he said. “Except, you know, not really. Or at all.”

  “She was in an order of predictors. She can see the future,” said Narp. “In bursts. Not all of it.”

  “You think my Narp can help you with something,” said the woman, still smiling. “You’re looking for your friend.”

  “That’s right,” said Cal. “We are.”

  Narp’s mom nodded and shuffled towards another door. “Then I’ll leave you to it and go rustle you up some snacks. You’ll enjoy my spit nibbles, Cal.”

  “Spit nibbles? Uh, no, I’m pretty sure I won’t,” said Cal.

  The woman hesitated at the kitchen door. “Trust me. You do,” she said, then she winked and stepped inside.

  “Well that wasn’t weird at all,” Cal muttered, then he clapped his hands once and spun on his heels. “Now then, Narp, m’boy. Let’s get down to business.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Narp sat on the end of his bed, staring up at Cal and Loren. “You want me to do what?”

  “We want you to hack into the encrypted presidential mainframe at Zertex,” Loren said. “We need to know where President Sinclair is.”

  “President Sinclair is the friend you’re trying to find?” Narp asked, slightly taken aback.

  “No. We think Sinclair has got our friend,” said Cal, munching on a spit nibble. It was a bit like a spicy spring roll, and – if you didn’t overthink the name – absolutely delicious. “He’s keeping him prisoner,” Cal said between bites. “He thinks he’s me. He’s a shapeshifter.”

  Narp frowned. “President Sinclair is a shapeshifter?”

  “No, our friend is a shapeshifter. Sinclair thinks he’s me.”

  Narp’s frown deepened. “Sinclair thinks he’s you?”

  “No.”

  “Your friend thinks he’s you?”

  “What? No! What are you talking about? No-one thinks they’re me.” Cal rolled his eyes. “Jesus, this kid is slow.”

  “To be fair, you did explain it pretty badly,” Miz pointed out.

  Cal leaned down and spoke very deliberately to Narp. “Listen. OK? It’s not difficult. Our friend, the shapeshifter – the one we’re looking for - has disguised himself as me.” Cal gestured to himself to demonstrate what he looked like. “In order to fool President Sinclair into taking him – our friend - prisoner, instead of me.” He gestured to himself again for emphasis.

  “But we don’t know where Sinclair is holding him,” Loren explained. “So we need to track him down.”

  “And he don’t exactly announce his movements in advance,” added Mech.

  “Hence why we need you to hack the president server, or whatever it’s called,” said Cal.

  “Encrypted presidential mainframe,” said Loren. Cal waved the words away.

  “Or whatever it’s called, and help us find him.”

  Narp slid both arms along the bed covers behind him and leaned back a little. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I can’t do that. Wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “Yeah, you would,” said Mech. “You’re Narp Aktinmeed. You’re the only person to have broken Zertex presidential mainframe encryption. Or only one to do so and still be alive, anyway.”

  Cal looked around the cramped bedroom. The walls and ceiling were plastered with posters of semi-naked women – or, more accurately, semi-naked females of varying species. The bed was unmade, the curtains were closed, and the very fabric of the place reeked of sweat, farts, and something not a million miles away from cannabis.

  The bedside table was an upturned cardboard box. Three plastic pots containing what looked to be ramen noodles – space ramen noodles, Cal thought, but chose not to announce on this occasion – stood congealing on top. One of the half-empty pots had found a new lease of life as an ashtray.

  “Are we sure this is our guy?” Cal asked. “He doesn’t look like the galaxy’s greatest hacker.”

  “I’m not,” insisted Narp.

  “He is,” growled Mech.

  Cal clicked his tongue against his teeth and fixed his gaze on Narp. “Well, there’s one way to find out. Miz?”

  Miz tutted with annoyance and looked up from picking her claw-like fingernails. “Yes?”

  “Chew one of his legs off.”

  “What?” yelped Narp, suddenly sitting stiffly upright. “No, wait. What?”

  Miz drew her gums back, showing off her teeth. She flicked her tongue across them, hungrily, and lowered her eyes to Narp’s left foot.

  “No, wait! Wait! What if I did know a way?” said Narp. “What if I could hack the mainframe? What’s in it for me?”

  Cal shrugged. “Your legs?”

  “Come on, man,” Narp protested. “Guy’s gotta make a living.”

  “I agree,” said Cal, smiling broadly. “And doing so will be far easier if you still have your legs, don’t you think?”

  He squatted down until he was at Narp’s eyes level. The smile stayed in place, but the humor had left it. “Look, we wouldn’t normally do this sort of thing. We’re nice, once you get to know us. But we don’t really have any money and, well, our friend is very important to us. So, what’s say you fire up your space laptop, or whatever it is you use, and get us Sinclair’s itinerary?”

  Narp rolled his lip between his teeth, his eyes darting all over the place. “I don’t know, man. You’re asking a lot. I just think it would be fair if I was compensated in some way for--”

  Cal stood up. “Loren, take off one of his shoes.”

  “OK, OK, fine!” Narp groaned. He gestured to a sideboard that was half-buried under piles of dirty plates, empty cups and junk food wrappers. Beside all the mess, a space had been cleared for a single sheet of letter-sized paper. “That’s it. The itinerary,” Narp said.

  “What? You’ve already got it?” Cal asked.

  Loren picked up the paper and studied it. “Is this genuine?”

  Narp nodded slowly. “My mom,” he sighed. “She knew you were coming, and what you were looking for.”

  “Then why did you run?” asked Loren.

  “I told you, because I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t know that was meant for you.”

  “Your mom is a fine woman,” said Cal. “A fine woman. And she makes exce
llent spit nibbles. You don’t appreciate her enough.”

  Narp frowned. “What?”

  “Well, I mean, look at this place,” said Cal, gesturing around. “It’s a pig sty.”

  “What’s a pig sty?” Narp asked.

  “It’s a very messy place, where no-one respects their mother,” Cal said. “You’d better start pulling your weight and tidying up after yourself, Narp,” he added, then he squatted down to Narp’s eye level again. “Or we’re going to come back, and this time, Miz really will eat your legs off. Understood?”

  Narp looked up at Miz, just for a moment. She curled up her gums, flashing a tooth. Narp quickly turned back to Cal and nodded.

  “Good man,” said Cal, clapping him on the shoulder. “You get tidying, and we’ll see ourselves out. It has been a pleasure. Seriously. Let’s do it again sometime.”

  Leaving Narp to it, Cal and the others bundled out into the hallway and headed for the front door. “Thanks for the spit nibbles!” Cal called. “They were surprisingly tasty, although you may want to rebrand them.”

  They left the apartment, and Cal was about to close the door behind them when Narp’s mom poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled at him.

  “You’re welcome. Drop by any time.”

  Cal nodded, and was about to close the door when a thought struck him. “Hey, uh, if you can see the future and everything, then… do you know if we find him? Splurt, I mean. Our friend. Do we find him?”

  The woman’s smile faltered, then fell away. “Yes, Mr Carver,” she said, in a voice that was little more than a whisper. “Yes, I’m afraid you do.”

  Her smile returned, but there was a sadness to it now. “And while I know you’d love to ask me exactly what I mean by that, you have more pressing problems at the moment.”

  “Shizz!” spat Mech from somewhere along the corridor.

  There was a screech of laser fire, followed by the unmistakable karuummaf of a wall collapsing. Cal turned in time for Loren, Mech and Miz to hurry past him. “Zertex!” Mech hissed. “Come on, man, let’s go!”

  “Thanks again, Narp!” Cal shouted through the open door. He ran, ducking as a bolt of red energy tore along the corridor and blew out a window up ahead.

  “There’s our way out!” said Loren, picking up speed.

  “The window?” Cal groaned. He lowered his head and covered it with his arms. “Why is it always the shizzing window?”

  * * *

  One jump, fall, and possible fractured pelvis later, Cal slid into the captain’s chair of his ship, the Shatner, and winced with the pain it brought. “Remind me never to jump out a window again.”

  “It was only the second floor,” Mizette pointed out.

  “Don’t care.” Cal shrugged. “I don’t care if it’s the first floor. Hell, I don’t care if it’s in the basement, my window jumping days are done. No more.” He held a hand out. “Loren, the printout, if you please.”

  Loren tensed. “What? I haven’t got it! I thought you had it.”

  Cal shook his head. “What? No! I don’t have it! You have it! You were the last one to…” He broke into a grin. “I can’t do it. Just look at your face.” He fished in the back pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a folded-square of paper. “Just look at her face.”

  “Funny,” said Loren, turning her chair away from him.

  “Thanks, I thought so,” agreed Cal. He smoothed out the sheet while Loren started preparing the ship for take-off. “Now. Where are we?” Cal mumbled, looking the page up and down. The writing was messy and uneven. It sloped towards the top of the unlined page like it was making a break for freedom, before being reined back in and finishing just a little higher than where it started.

  Cal nodded and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Right, then,” he said. He picked the page up and flipped it over, checking the other side. It was blank. “That all seems to be in order.”

  “You don’t know what any of it means, do you?” asked Mech.

  “Nope,” said Cal, holding the paper out to him. “I mean, I guess those numbers are space dates, but that’s pretty much where I get stuck.”

  “Fonking space dates,” Mech muttered, snatching the page away. He glanced at it, just briefly. “Zertex Command Five,” he said, handing it back. “That’s where we’ll find Sinclair.”

  Cal nodded sagely and steepled his fingers in front of his face. “Well, well, well. Zertex Command Five, where we were first brought together. How appropriate. Back where it all began. The circle is now comple--”

  “That was Zertex Command Seven,” Loren pointed out.

  “Oh. Was it?” Cal shrugged. “Forget I just said all that stuff, then.” He gestured to the screen. On it, a set of hangar doors slid jerkily open, revealing the towering spires of the city in the distance. “Chocks away.”

  “Hey, Loren, you see all those buildings way over there?” asked Miz.

  Loren let out a barely audible sigh. “Yes.”

  “Like, waaaaay over there?”

  “Yes, Miz. I see them.”

  “Do you think you could, like, not hit any of them? You know, just for a change?”

  Loren punched a few controls, then took hold of the thruster handle. “I don’t know,” she said. “Let’s find out.”

  The Shatner shot forwards, forcing Cal back into his seat. With a grinding of metal and a shower of sparks, the ship scraped against the underside of the hangar’s vast doorway, shuddered like a plane in turbulence, then banked upwards towards the cloud-covered sky.

  “Missed them,” said Loren.

  “Yeah, but--”

  “Miss those buildings,” Loren interrupted. Her blue skin blushed a faint shade of purple. “That’s what you said. Nothing about the hangar roof. Am I right?”

  “Technically, yes,” Cal began. Loren stopped him before he could go any further.

  “See? Exactly. So I missed them. Mission accomplished.”

  She eased down a pedal below her bank of controls. The Shatner groaned as it picked up speed and pulled into a vertical climb. Cal gripped the arm rests of his chair and waited for the now-familiar shudder that rattled through the ship whenever they left a planet’s atmosphere.

  The ship punched through the thick layers of gray cloud and the rattling of raindrops stopped. The sky above them was a lighter shade of bluish-gray, but became steadily darker as the Shatner continued its relentless upwards push.

  Aaaaand there was the shuddering again. It rose up through the floor, rattling Cal’s bones and doing his sore back no favors whatsoever. His teeth chattered together. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the chair.

  On screen, the gray became grayer, then grayer still, before finally becoming a cold, clinical shade of black. The stars winked, as if greeting an old friend, and Cal found himself tapping his forehead in acknowledgement.

  “Ladies,” he said.

  Mech glowered at him. “Say what?”

  “Hmm? Oh, nothing,” said Cal.

  “Did you just salute and say, ‘ladies,’ to outer space?”

  Cal shifted in his chair. “What? No.”

  “He totally did,” said Miz. “He totally saluted and said, ‘ladies.’”

  “Man, that is weird,” said Mech. “That is just plain weird.”

  “It’s not weird!” Cal protested.

  “It is very weird,” said Loren, engaging the auto-pilot and turning to face the rest of the crew. “I mean… it’s borderline creepy.”

  “I just, you know, think of the stars as lots of individual women, that’s all!” said Cal. “Is that really so… I mean, yeah, when I say it out loud like that, I guess it does sound a little…”

  “Creepy?” Miz guessed.

  “Totally fonking insane?” said Mech.

  “Quirky,” Cal corrected. “It does sound a little quirky. But there’s no harm in that, is there? The universe would be a very boring place if some of us didn’t think of the stars as lots of individual women, and ackn
owledge them accordingly.”

  He gave the others a look which suggested he’d somehow won the argument, then turned to Loren. “How long until we reach Sinclair?”

  “At this speed? A couple of hours.”

  Mizette had unclipped her seat belt and was now slouching across her seat, her back against one arm rest, her long hairy legs dangling over the other. “And then what do we do?”

  Cal spun his own chair a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, buying himself a moment to think. “Huh?” he said, once he’d finished the maneuver. “What was that?”

  “She asked what we’re going to do once we get to Zertex Command Five,” said Mech. “I mean, it ain’t like we can just walk in and demand he hands Splurt over.”

  “Oh, can’t we?” said Cal, smiling and raising one eyebrow. He twisted his hips, turning his chair from side to side a couple of times. “No, seriously, I’m genuinely asking. Can’t we? Because that was totally my plan this whole time.”

  Mech groaned and clamped one robotic hand over his face. Miz snorted, then turned her attention back to her fingernails.

  “Of course we can’t,” said Loren. “For starters, the ship’s serial code would flag up the security scanners the moment we asked for docking clearance. We’re wanted by Zertex, remember?”

  Cal clicked his fingers. “Oh, so that’s why they were shooting at us earlier.”

  “Even if we did somehow manage to get on board, we’d have to get through the station, past Sinclair’s security and get inside his office, then convince him to hand over Splurt, then get back out again without being captured or killed. Not necessarily in that order.

  “So, in answer to your question,” Loren continued. “No, we definitely cannot go with that plan.”

  “Right,” said Cal, nodding slowly. “Does anyone else have another plan?” He swung in his chair to look around the flight deck. “No? No-one?”

  Cal slapped his thighs and pointed to the screen. “Then I guess we’re going with my plan. Loren, plot a course to Zertex Command Seven.”

  “Five,” Loren corrected.

  “That’s the one. And don’t spare the horses,” said Cal, gripping his armrests. “We’ve got us an adorable green blob to rescue.”