On The Surface Tension Page 16

  “What is your name?” he asked, trying to get his mind off his nethers.

  “Bob,” the man said with a sidelong glance. “You?”

  “Jeremy Springs.”

  Bob cocked his head for a moment. “I knew someone named Springs once. Dem fine woman.”

  “How far off is your town?” Jeremy asked.

  “A fur piece. Why, you in a hurry?”

  “My ass is,” Jeremy quipped.

  Bob chortled. “Don’t worry, me ’ansome, it’ll get numb soon. Or we can canter instead of trot.”

  They rode on, a bit faster without the jarring trot. Jeremy tried to determine their direction of travel by looking at the sun angle, but remembered that on this planet it was not a given that the rotation was in the same direction as Earth. He also did not remember whether he was in the northern or southern hemisphere. They were on grassland, with gentle rolling hills. He squinted in their direction of travel, trying to see a town in the distance but could see nothing.

  “Are we even going to your town?”

  “Not dreckly. Need to meet up with the herd for the drive first. Once a year we send up a few thousand head to the weird beehive city. I hear they grind ’em up for the big sponge bitch. I doubt she lets the people there have anything good of it.”

  “Sponge bitch?”

  Bob rotated his upper body in the saddle and regarded him.

  “You really aren’t from here, are you? There’s a giant ocean that makes up most of this planet, and most of that is taken up by a sponge that runs things. I used to work for her, but that went out a’ joint. She kidnapped the ancestors of these yokels and brought ’em here. You too, I imagine.”

  “You imagine right. But I’m going back.”

  The cowboy snorted. “Oh yeah? You happen to have a spaceship, me bey?”

  “Not presently. But I plan on going to that beehive city or wherever and getting one.”

  The cowboy rode on in silence for a while, thinking. Jeremy let him ponder.

  “How you plan on doing that?” he finally asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe I was hoping you would help me. Maybe we could all go back to Earth.”

  “Look, Jeremy Springs, we been here for near on a hundred and forty years. And in all that time nobody has tried to shanghai a spaceship. I used to pilot them, but I know enough to know I couldn’t grab one alone, even if I wasn’t in this condition. And not only that, but one would have to be on the ground somewhere to grab it. They aren’t always. And who knows whether the soldiers would scat us all down in the meantime?”

  “What’s wrong with you all?” Jeremy scolded. “Are you Americans or what? What happened to ‘We’ll figure it out as we go along’? What happened to ‘Give me liberty or give me death’? What happened to the good ol’ American gumption?”

  The cowboy rotated in his saddle to look back at Jeremy, scowling. After regarding him for a moment, he pulled his hat tighter and resumed riding, slumped over.

  “I reckon you right, me ‘ansome. Come with me.”

  The cowboy spurred his horse and broke into a gallop, veering left on a new course. Jeremy swallowed and kicked his horse too, hoping his horse would know to follow in spite of his ignorance of riding. Galloping proved easier riding than trotting or cantering, to his surprise. Before long he saw the dark outline of buildings on the horizon, and soon they were riding into a western town right out of central casting. There were clap-boarded stores, swing-doored saloons, livery stables, blacksmiths, mercantiles, and wooden houses. He did not see a church or a school, however. Cornish Bob rode to the sheriff’s office and hitched his horse to a post. Jeremy incorrectly remembered horses stopped by pulling back on the reins, and did so, hard. The horse overreacted and reared, dumping Jeremy off over the withers and onto his backside. He rolled to the side to avoid being trampled.

  Bob guffawed. “You’ll get the hang of it. Welcome to New Bodie! Come on, we need to talk to Sheriff Dolan.”

  Jeremy stood, beating the dust off his paper coveralls, and they walked through the door of the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Dolan was a stout man with a bushy, black mustache, and was wearing a round bowler hat and striped shirt with vest. He regarded Jeremy with a rheumy gaze.

  “Morning, Cornish Bob. Who the hell is this?”

  “This here is an American spaceman,” Bob announced. “He’s going to fly us all back to America.”

  “Is this true, boy?”

  “Uh, yes sir,” Jeremy bluffed, remembering that Bob had told him he could pilot it himself. “You just get me on a ship and we’re as good as home.”

  “Well I’ll be a son of a bitch,” said Sheriff Dolan, slamming his hand on his desk. “Back to America, instead of being that bitch’s bitches!”

  “Exactly! Yes sir!” shouted Cornish Bob.

  “So how are we gonna pull this off?” asked the Sheriff.

  “I figure we drive the cattle up to the city like every year, but this time we go heeled. Instead of just dropping the cows off and coming back, this time we keep going, pull our pistols and storm the place. I know sometimes she has soldiers around, with better guns than ours, but if we take ’em by surprise we’ll have a chance. Better than living like slaves here for the next generation, right?”

  “Right you are, Bob. That’s a hell of a plan. Let’s go round up a posse and break out the Colts.”

  The Sheriff removed a key from his desk and opened a gun cabinet. They loaded a number of western-style pistols into a burlap sack.

  “Best take a few repeaters too, Sheriff. Maybe we can have some lads give us cover from afar.”

  The Sheriff nodded and removed some Henry lever-action rifles as well.

  “Don’t forget the shells,” Bob reminded.

  Once they had two sacks filled with weaponry, the three of them walked to the town square, and the Sheriff pulled a rope connected to an iron bell. The urgent clanging soon had the whole town scrambling to join them in a mob.

  “Where’s the fire, Dolan?” one of them called.

  “Ain’t no fire. We need some men folk to volunteer for the Army. We’re going to war against the sponge. This here boy is an American spaceman who knows how to fly them big transport ships. All we gotta do is shoot our way into the city and hogtie one.”

  “What if there ain’t a big ship landed?” a woman asked.

  “Well then we take a little one, load up some of the boys, and fly up and get a big one.”

  “What if there ain’t a little one landed?”

  The Sheriff placed his arms akimbo. “Well then, Mr. Tanner, we take some of them hive people hostage and trade for one. Look, it’s about time we get the hell off this rock and get back to the U.S. of A.”

  “Hell yeah, I say,” chimed in one of the townsfolk.

  “Hell no, I say,” argued a tall townsman with a round hat. “Why the hell would you want to leave here? We have it good, everything we need, with no gub’mint interference. Why ride off with the Sheriff and get yourselves kilt for nothing?”

  Sheriff Dolan narrowed his eyes with a scowl. “You want to be slaves to that sponge forever, instead of getting back to California Territory? What the hell is wrong with you, Jimmy?”

  “Nuthin’ wrong with me, Sheriff Dolan. I just don’t want to die with all you fools.”

  “You are a coward son of a bitch, Jimmy.”

  “No, you are a fool son of a bitch, you…” he cast about for a more potent expletive but failed and settled on volume, “…son of a bitch!”

  “Well you just stay here cowering and be a bitch,” said the Sheriff.

  “I will,” said Jimmy. “And I guess I’ll have to be the sheriff after you hotheads get yourselves kilt.”

  “You just do that, Jimmy. After we get a ship, we’ll come back and pick up any women and children who want to go back to America. We won’t be picking up any cowardly men who didn’t man up and ride with us though. Y’all can stay here with Yellow Jimmy and live the rest of your lives in servitude to
a monster.”

  “I’ll ride with you,” said a townsman.

  “I’m with you too,” said another. Soon there was general hooting and hollering of support.

  “All right then, men, gird yer’ damn loins and mount up,” shouted the Sheriff.

  Half of the townsmen were willing, while the rest slunk off with Jimmy to the saloon. Before long, twenty-seven men kissed their wives and children and were mounted, armed, and riding out of town. They reached the cattle herd at sundown and armed the other herdsman. They passed the night around campfires, passing bottles of whiskey between them and keeping their spirits high with jovial bluster. In the morning, after shivering through the night in his papery coveralls, Jeremy rubbed his bloodshot eyes and pounding head while the townsfolk stirred the embers of the fires into life to make coffee and breakfast.

  “You look cold, son,” said Bob.

  “Yeah. Wish I had thought to get some clothes in town,” Jeremy answered.

  “Probably would have been a good idea. But then you wouldn’t be able to rally the troops as ‘the spaceman.’ But you don’t have a belt for a pistol, though. Maybe you should carry one of the rifles; they have slings.”

  “Works for me,” said Jeremy, hearkening back to his marksmanship training in the Marine Training Depot. Bob tossed him a Henry repeating rifle, and after breakfast he slung it over his shoulder, mounted his horse with aching buttocks, and joined the rest of the men as they drove the thundering herd of mooing cattle towards the rising sun.

  The air warmed, bringing with it the ripe smell of bovine bodies and droppings. Towards mid-morning, Jeremy caught a glint of light in the sky, reflecting off of something. Worried about aircraft, he craned his neck to see what the source was. It soon became apparent that it was not a high-flying aircraft but a shiny dragonfly that was keeping pace with the herd. One of the cowboys caught sight of it.

  “Oh shit, boys, a dragonfly drone! Hide yer’ guns!”

  “What’s going on?” Jeremy asked Bob.

  “The hive people use those to spy. They are little robots with cameras and such. Well, so much for the element of surprise if they see our pieces. Not much you can do about yours—you don’t even have pockets.”

  Jeremy’s stomach fell when he saw the little drone dip and hover towards him. It hovered over his head.

  “Holy crap,” he whispered. “Should I shoot it?”

  “Naw. Too late now,” said Bob. “Maybe just bluff it out; they may think we have guns for coyotes. Even though there ain’t no coyotes on this planet.”

  A tiny speaker crackled to life on the drone, and a tinny little voice spoke.

  “Jeremy Springs, as I live and breathe. It took long enough to track you down, you lazy asshole.”

  Jeremy’s mind reeled, trying to place the voice. “Chris? Is that you?”

  *****

  Chris huddled over the screen and clumsily manipulated the drone’s controls while Elanor tried to grab them from her hands.

  “Stop it!” she protested.

  “Stop what?” replied Jeremy’s voice from the speaker. “Should we abort the mission?”

  “Not you, Jeremy. My friend Elanor who thinks she can handle this drone better than I can.”

  “So we are still a ‘go,’ then. Good. So what do we do now?”

  “What were you planning?” Chris asked.

  “We were going to ride to the city like they always do driving the cattle but this time shoot the place up and grab a transport ship.”

  Chris shook her head in disbelief. “That was it? That was your big plan?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “You have a better idea?”

  “Well I do now. How about we give you some over-watch and let you know where and who to attack? And maybe try to make sure there is a ship on the ground?”

  “That would be most helpful.”

  “You’re welcome. Just keep riding and we’ll get back to you with a target.”

  “Roger,” said Jeremy with a salute.

  They ordered the drone to return to its hanger outside the City of God.

  “Wow, this is exciting,” said Elanor, clapping her hands.

  “So now,” said Chris, “we have to figure out a way to make sure a transport ship is on the ground near the city and maybe that it isn’t guarded, round up all the members of the Virii, and figure out how to fly the transport up here to get us off the orbiting station. We have to destroy the station and figure out how to fly us all back to Earth. Am I missing anything?”

  Elanor shoved her chair against Chris’s and moved her from the screen. She cracked her knuckles then began tapping at the keyboard.

  “There. In two days’ time, the transport ship Glow of Power will land just outside the City of God to pick up Rosa 40, Cain 10, Valentina 69, and Anton 36 for penal transport to the giant scorpion beach. The members of our cell have all been ordered to report there, so they will all be on board when your brother and his band of cowherders attacks and brings the ship up here to get us. We alter the course of the orbiting manufacturing facility to crash it into the sea.”

  “I had no idea you were such a hacker.”

  “I’m not. There are no protections on the computers. All the people using them are drugged up and worship Eiffeila as a Goddess, so there is no need for any codes. Heck, most of her people are too drugged up to remember things anyway.”

  “So at that point we will be floating in a stolen ship with a whole fleet of pissed-off sponge warriors ready to blast us to dust. What then?”

  “We fly to Earth of course.”

  “How?”

  “Anton 36 is a shuttle pilot, remember? He’ll fly us.”

  Chris blinked. “This is all so…easy. Too easy.”

  Elanor flexed her eyebrows. “Nothing is hard when you are not drugged on Xylol.”

  Chris finished her shift and returned to her bunk. The next day’s shift passed with glacial slowness. She could not sleep the night before the hijacking and passed the time watching reruns of “Super Powerful Anti-Demon Special Warrior Force Attack!” on the television.

  The morning came without fanfare. Chris walked to the workstation and found Elanor already piloting the dragonfly drone. She crowded into the space in front of the screen and saw that the dragonfly drone was hovering over a mid-sized transport ship. Elanor pivoted the camera and showed the herd of cattle with the cowboy escort just cresting a rolling hill in the distance, approaching the ship and the town.

  “Good of you to wake up and join us,” Elanor said archly.

  “I wasn’t sleeping. And thanks for waiting for me. Are we on board the ship yet?”

  “Everyone but Valentina. But she’s still missing, so no surprise there. Your brother is going to be clever about this, I trust?”

  “I hope so. What have you told him?”

  “Nothing yet. Let’s fly over and plan.”

  Elanor manipulated the keyboard, and the dragonfly drone shot across the plain towards the cattle herd. Jeremy was riding a horse at the head of the cavalcade, with a few other cowboys. She squinted when she noticed one of them was a rotting skeleton. The rest were driving the herd from the rear and containing the sides.

  “Good morning, my idiot brother,” Chris spoke into the screen.

  “And a fair fine morning to you, my snide sister,” she heard Jeremy retort. “So is that the ship you have so cleverly provided for us ahead there?”

  “Yes,” Chris answered. “It has…how many crew?” she asked, turning to Elanor.”

  “Three,” she answered.

  “It has three crewmen on board,” Chris repeated to Jeremy. “I’m thinking you drive the cows right past the front of the ship. Just climb on board and take out the crew, throw them out the door into the herd, and then get the rest of your cowboys on board too. Anton will fly you up here. With any luck you can do the whole thing without firing a shot.”

  “You make it sound so easy. What are they armed with?” Jeremy asked.

  Elano
r shrugged. “Guns?”

  “Guns,” Chris answered.

  “Thank you. Very helpful. Very specific,” Jeremy said with a salute.

  Chris scowled. “Just do your Marine thing, a-hole.”

  Elanor piloted the dragonfly drone back towards the ship to give them a better vantage point. The transport ship was parked just off the road, a mile from the outer fringes of the City of God. They watched as the herd approached, now with six cowboys and the zombie in front with Jeremy.

  “Can you get closer so we can see and hear?” Chris asked Elanor.

  “Sure.”

  The dragonfly drone floated just behind the cowboys as they led the herd past the open doors of the transport ship then dismounted and entered it. The screen jostled for a moment then showed Jeremy approaching two of the crewmen inside the ship. They too wore papery coveralls but were soldiers by their muscular statures and face paint.

  “Good morning,” said Jeremy, as the other cowboys spread out into the vestibule. “Where should we take these cows?”

  The two soldiers glanced at each other, confused.

  “Now boys, git ’em!” yelled one of the cowboys, and the fight was on. The camera on the dragonfly drone was jostled, so they missed most of the brawl, but it stabilized in time to see the two soldiers dragged unconscious out the door into the herd. Cain 10 appeared, dragging what Chris presumed to be the pilot, and threw his inert form out to join the soldiers. Cain appeared to have been struck in the face, perhaps by one of the cowboys who assumed he was one of the soldiers. The drone showed the rest of the cowboys crowding into the ship and Rosa 40 escorting them into the cargo bay. The drone followed over Jeremy’s shoulder as he made his way with Cain 10 to the bridge, where Anton 36 sat in the pilot’s chair.

  “Are we all on board?” Anton asked.

  “Ready to fly,” answered Cain.

  Anton manipulated a slider, and the main screen powered on. It showed a large, curved surface at the bottom of the screen, which Chris assumed was a representation of the planet’s surface. Several lights circled above, probably satellites and other ships.

  “Let’s get out of here before they notice us,” growled Anton. He started manipulating various controls.