Cycles Go ‘Round [Chapter 3]

You’d think that with the unfathomable greatness of the universe and all the horrifying dangers and life-threatening anomalies, people would be tumbling hand over fist for services like ours. Well, the first thing that I learned when I joined Cycles Go ’Round is that more than a few customers have simply gone missing without a trace. Some others leave traces that head off to places that no other sane person would dare visit, so there’s that. But that’s beside the point— what I’m trying to say is that we have to do a lot of footwork to make sales.

The second thing I learned from my orientation is that a lot of people traversing the systems simply like to go it on their own and not worry about the consequences and that it’s part of our job to meet with that exact sort of person. We are instructed to give them reason to be wary, at least of the momentary consequences, of being devoured, disintegrated, or disassembled by any sort of malevolent and possibly sentient entity.

It’s called a cold call, but I have no idea where the term comes from. We actually almost always meet in person, rather than calling out to them, like I do with Grep. I can’t tell you how troublesome actually trying to connect with another ship from another brand of civilization is. Even if we have smart translator tech these days, the various frequencies, coding and decoding and syncing of communication frequencies would take forever on a good cycle, and by then the potential customers would be long fed up. And so that’s why I find myself flying out to an old forested moon, tracking a little science-style vessel that was tracked to have landed there.

Despite the thick nature of the moon’s fauna, there were a few clearings for landing my ship. As I exited the hatch, I realized the clearing was not natural, but instead the ruins of old buildings. Nature had long since taken them over, but the metal remains of the once sturdy and thoughtfully-built structures remained. I hurriedly flipped my tablet on to track any signals possibly belonging to the potential client so I could complete the task as quickly as possible.

“Gonna have to take it slow through here,” I mumbled to myself, unloading the hoverbike from my cargo hold. The underbrush was low and thin, but certainly not something I could make good time on foot through. I would have set off then and there, but the figures creeping out from the woods made me freeze in place.

They were ghostly pale-skinned folks dressed in light clothing, despite the cool atmosphere of the planet. With wide eyes, they looked me up and down, more coming into the clearing little by little until my ship was surrounded by thirty or more of them.

“I, uh, I’m sorry if I’m intruding,” I explained, holding up the back of my tablet with the company logo. “I wasn’t aware this planet had been settled. I’m… selling insurance. If you’re not interested, I can be right out of your hair.”

The howling started almost immediately, with squeaks and squawks that filled the air. My translator failed to churn out a single word from their sounds. I was ready to jump back into the ship and leave the hoverbike behind, but their sudden approach in the circle around me was too fast. I closed my eyes, fearing that my own personal insurance was going to be enacted. Their touches were instead gentle, tugging at my work uniform and my exposed hands and hair.

Their cries subsided and I opened my eyes to see them bowing around me and my ship in a circle. The ones at the front held my hands as if to pull me along. I pondered what would happen if I pulled away, perhaps something to be seen as betraying their hospitality, so follow them I did.

Through a winding path beneath the trees, I was led to what seemed to be their camp, maybe even what they considered a city. Apart from several more permanent structures nestled into the old metal ruins, the buildings were all made of wood, the streets lit with burning torches and lamps. I was led even further to the biggest of the old buildings. Inside, I was presented before an old and quite wide member of the species, who I assumed to be an elder or leader. He too bowed before me, mumbling in the strange native language.

Before I knew it, I was in an open room overlooking the city. I can’t say it was uncomfortable, and the food brought to me— mild-smelling fruits and vegetables of various sorts— wasn’t nice, but I knew that my search for the other visitor to the planet wasn’t going to be going anywhere. On top of that, in the rush of things, I had gotten disoriented, losing the way back to the clearing and my ship. All in all, I was certainly going to be late in contacting dispatch.

A few of the natives came by to bring water and more food and cushions for resting upon. When it became darker, there was a final visitor, one seeming to be more intent than the others. Many of the ones I had met seemed wary to look or speak at me directly, but there was something in the eye of this one.

“You’ve really messed up in coming here,” he whispered, a scowl suddenly appearing on his face.

“Excuse me?” I pulled back, not even realizing immediately that his words were the first I had understood.

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m just doing my job,” I hissed. “I get told to go and try to sell my company’s insurance to people. How would I know most of your people won’t even use a single word with me?”

The man shook a finger at me. “I may look like them, but they are not my people. My people left this moon long ago. These folk are the dregs of our society that descended from the people we left here.”

“Well, I’d like to leave here too.” I sat up on my knees, holding my arms across my chest. “Seeing as this place is an insurance dead-end. You going to help me out, Mr…?”

“Brack,” he said, rolling his eyes and looking over his shoulder. “And maybe I can help you out if we find out a way to deal with these fools here.”

“Okay, Brack. I’m Anna. Some of you were boneheaded… fools, and you just left them behind?”

Brack shook his head. “We built a thriving society here long ago, long before I was born. All these ruins were proper buildings back then. The more we thrived and changed, though, some people got fed up with how we were changing. Long story short, many of us who wanted to keep moving forward and not be held back made the leap to space and settled elsewhere.”

“And the people here…”

“They were dumb back then, but not this dumb. It’s like they… devolved. I came here to study why. Some of my people have been studying them from afar. Deciphering their language, if you can call it that.”

“So you’re like a scientist or something? And then to them, I’m…?”

“Are you devolving too, woman? You coming out of nowhere, looking like you do… they think you’re some sort of god or something. Pretty sure they’ve decided to revere you.”

“Seriously?” I said, sitting back down on the grass padding provided for me.

“Seriously. It’s exactly this sort of people to believe in fairy tales and supernatural beings.”

“I guess…” I looked down at my comparatively exotic ware, “…that there’s no explaining to them that I’m just from space.”

Brack jerked up, glancing back at the surroundings for anyone approaching. “There’s no explaining to them anything. And as well as I can make myself understood… as basic and brainless as their communication is… there’s no way I’m convincing them of anything.”

“So how do I get off this moon?”

“I want to say that’s your problem, blondie.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “You don’t talk like any smarty-pants scientist that I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, and you don’t talk or act like any being of supernatural status,” Brack knelt down before me, his voice low again, but with eyes fixed on me. “If one thing’s for sure, the fallout from this will be a great anthropological study.”

I leaned my head down, shaking. “So I’m stuck here?”

“Perhaps my joke did not translate. No, I want you gone. If I want to continue my studies, I need things how they were. So I will try to get you back to your ship. But for now, you need to act like the fantastical being you probably think you are. So they don’t skin you or something.”

I huffed and almost made a retort, but Brack jerked up, looking back toward the ground. “Like I said, blondie,” he said, hustling off.

“Don’t think I’m going to sell you any insurance, even if these people turn out to be cannibal types!” I shouted as he disappeared. I sat up, rubbing at my face and determining whether or not the fruit-like food that was brought to me was safe to eat. Before I could dig in, my eyes found the sky. The home planet of the moon was a volcanic wasteland, completely uninhabitable. However, just at that moment, its distant, curved horizon was passing by, experiencing its sunrise. The obsidian formations on its surface glimmered and shifted visibly with the orbit of the moon.

Followed by the light show came a nearly rhythmic pounding. Marching up the stairs to my godly chambers was a procession of the natives, banging instruments like a childhood musical performance without a director. They made their hoots and hollers of what I assumed to be elation or maybe even reverence. The lesser types formed lines on either side of the stairway while the elders continued my way.

I could only look on as the trinkets were left at my feet. They seemed to be ancient remnants of the old civilization that Brack had described. Among them were old cups with cartoon designs on them, a clothes iron of some sort, hardware from the construction of a building, and what was possibly part of a golf club.

With eager eyes and suddenly silent mouths they looked upon me as if expecting me to graciously accept their trash. I pushed myself up into the best supernatural display I could conjure, standing and holding my hands together before my face. “I, uh…” I said, making words even though I knew they would be worthless. “I come from up there,” I said, deciding that the little light clipped to my belt would be the best to illustrate my relative power. With a press of its button, the beam shined up into the sky, eventually disappearing into the night.

There were claps and bangs and moans of pleasure at my show of power. The locals bowed before my feet, faces to the ground. Their bodies moved up and down, rising and falling with shouts and howls, which eventually turned to dancing and more cacophony. I managed to clap along with their non-rhythm, but only until the palms of my hands began to feel raw.

After twenty minutes of the most energy-draining party-adjacent affair, the chaotic tone was interrupted by the arrival of more, comparatively tame, locals. I glanced over the jiving masses to the group ascending the stairs of my makeshift temple. Between them, hung on their lanky arms, was a young-looking individual, limp and unresponsive.

Some of my worshipers seemed upset at the prospect of having to depart from the party circle. The poor thing’s helpers descended upon me nonetheless, depositing it upon the hard ground in front of my bedding. I looked between it and those who had transported it to me. They didn’t dare to look me in the eyes.

From my knees, I dared to grab for my tablet, that which would be seen as yet another supernatural entity, to see if its basic scanning tools could allow me to learn something about the ailing individual. However, in exactly none of the pockets of my suit, I was able to find said tablet. I stared at the subject, all my hours of learning about insurance sales proving useless in the pursuit of actually helping someone. My head began shaking, a little at first, then more openly, hoping that the others would come to understand.

There were several groans and cries of defeat at my inaction. I leaned back, unable to do more for the one placed in my care. In an action that may have indicated their simple minds still having foresight, they pulled out and presented more trashy relics to me, throwing them down on my bedding with the others. Some put down more fruits and other forms of food. With the remaining dregs of my social energy, I decided to wave my hand as if to banish them.

With downtrodden looks, the locals descended from my sanctuary, leaving me with a pile of junk and a sick man. I slumped back, watching the faint breaths lift and lower his chest. I pondered sharing the food or covering him with my donated bedding but a low rustling interrupted my thoughts.

I relaxed my body as Brack presented himself back. “Don’t feel bad if you can’t do anything,” he said, glancing at my unfulfilled expectations. “There have been plenty of cases like this. I haven’t found a cause, personally, as long as I’ve been here. Here, I think this belongs to you. It just started chirping at me, can you shut it up?”

The false local held out my tablet, slightly scuffed from a fall into the dirt. “You are useful for something,” I said, yanking the company property back into my possession. It let out a low beep. “That sound is the toxicity warning, I’ll have you know. Something bad is around here. I really should be getting out of here.”

“Well, you’re welcome. You must have dropped it when they started dragging you here.”

“And my ship?” I asked, folding the tablet open to its screen.

“Been looking at it, but they haven’t touched it. It’s too… divine, perhaps for them.”

I shrugged. “Let them believe that, then. I can get my way back to it with this,” I explained, gesturing to the device as it let out yet another chirp. “Be quiet, damn you. But I’ll need you to tell me to get out of here without getting noticed.”

Brack stood up and looked out across the settlement, stretching his back. “And why should I help you, when you’ve caused all this ruckus?”

The tablet chirped once again in my hands. “Ugh, this thing. Uh, because I’ll ruin all of your observations or something? Here, I’ll give you some of these crappy trinkets in exchange. They seem to be worth something, at least to these bumpkins.”

Brack jerked back. “That sound was toxicity? Bad stuff?”

“Yeah, like I said, I need to get out of here.”

“From where?” He stepped up.

I flipped the screen to the scanner readout. “Uh, from… right here. A lot of this stuff, actually.” The camera began highlighting the bits and bobs left for me around my bedding area.

“Toxic with what?”

“Uh… 82-Pb. Lead, Plumbum, whatever word you use.”

Brack clicked his tongue. “And I’ve missed it this whole time.”

I stood up, puzzled. “Huh?”

“That’s why the planetary scans did nothing. It isn’t the planet itself that has some innate toxicity turning these people dumb. The old civilization, when it was still somewhat functioning, must have been manufacturing with these toxic chemicals. They rotted their own brains with it. And to think…”

“I don’t think… thinking was something they were doing a lot of,” I said without a second thought.

Brack rolled his eyes at me. “Clever. At least it hasn’t gotten to you. Listen, right now would be a good time to get out of here. They party a lot like this, actually, often without reason. And now they’re going to be sleeping it off. So you’re very much free to just hoof it out of here.”

“That’s a good of a plan as any. And… you’re sure you don’t want any insurance? Perhaps to pay for medical bills post-exposure to a planet’s hostile environment?”

“You know, if I wasn’t going to be so busy trying to document and solve this situation down here, I would be on your company’s ass for the gross negligence of your agents.”

“I’ll take that as a no. So, which way down, at least, to get me started?”

Following Brack’s directions, I exited the main gate of the settlement. From there, it was simply reading the coordinates on my tablet through the forest and back to my ship. I never thought the stale air and cramped compartment of the cockpit would be so welcoming, but somehow, it was.

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Cycles Go ‘Round [Chapter 2]

You know, time doesn’t really mean anything. I mean, everyone— at least those in this dimension— is restrained by it, but if you do any sort of inter-spacial travel, you’ll find yourself jet-lagged and even warp-lagged to a point you don’t know when you are. Time is relative. It was some guy a long time ago that said that, you know. A member of my own species even. How proud I was to learn that. I mean, at the time that guy was around, the rest of the universe had already figured that out, back when my species was just living on a nasty little blue planet that is barely inhabited anymore.

You know, that little boring blue planet that turned to crap? Some say that was the inspiration for companies like ours, Cycles Go ’Round. We even began offering long-term packages that covered self-inflicted extinctions for little baby civilizations that tend to pop up in corners of the galaxy. There was a free trial period of several millenniums, of course, as not everyone made it that far, but the few who did go longer ended up cashing in for us quite nicely.

Speaking of time once more, I’m fully of the thought that if time really means nothing, then it shouldn’t even matter, like during the times when I wish I could have a few more me-hours. Unfortunately, my time to get a full night of beauty sleep seems to mean nothing to my employers.

Now this might seem like what a xenophobe might say, but things were a lot easier when everyone lived on their own planets. I mean, in terms of keeping track of time. Folks kept track of how fast or slow things were going by the rotation of their planet or the number of times it had gone around their home star. But then you realize now that there are settlements in binary star systems, or in erratically moving asteroid belts, or even on permanent deep-space installations. So most reasonable and time-sensitive species rely on the galactic cycle.

Unfortunately for me, the timing of a cycle was a good deal off from the circadian rhythm that had been evolutionarily programmed into my body by my ancestors way back on their long-overstayed planet. Now, if my company were part of a union, they would have to abide by the cyclical needs of their employees, but alas they were not. What can you do when there is a shortage of unautomated jobs but take on one desperate for the sentient touch?

The ship’s alarm awoke me from my half a hexturn of sleep. The odor of my chlorine-vapor-soaked suit still clung to the air. Despite the smell, I forced some nutrition bars and syntheine (synthetic caffeine) into my body before the station’s flight controllers would call upon me to pilot myself into the commercial slip. At last, with the chemical refreshment sustaining me, I was able to step out of the cramped ship and onto the platform.

I had been to Zexa station several times before, the first time being the beginning of my field training. My instructor, a veteran of Cycles Go ’Round, was nice and had a roomy ship, but he also smelled of bread-and-butter pickles, a natural aspect of his kind. I’d say I learned plenty from him, but my experience with the Slug back on the moon made me realize that I perhaps was lacking elsewhere. As I wandered through the collections of listless people on the station and rode the lift up to the upper levels, I couldn’t help but wonder what assignment lay in wait for me.

CGR had its own little leased storefront deep within the station, a right narrow space tucked between a real estate agent and a sign-making company. Several light-years away in the location I had interviewed, there was a full set of agents on staff, but all anyone could hope to get here was a sole remote terminal to talk with one in some far-off locale.

As I walked up to the entrance to the space, I couldn’t help but notice a wide, red-tinted individual, tugging on the straps of his overalls with two sets of tentacle appendages. He arduously stood up from the bench seat and waddled in my direction. Intent on making my appointed time, I gave him no more attention than I thought he needed.

The terminal inside accepted my employee ID and it changed from a dark screen-saver to the call window with my dispatch. “Anna,” Grep said, his voice creating a wavy readout on screen. “You made good time.”

“Hey!” A loud call came from behind me.

I tensed my neck and turned back. The tentacled man was at the door, all angles of his vast body unable to fit through the doorway. “I’m sorry sir, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“This is unacceptable! You ought to be fined for not upholding the Shapes and Sizes Act!”

I waved my hand up and down at him. “I shall… let my superiors know. It should be but a moment, sir, and I can see to helping you.”

He let out a humph and shuffled out while I turned back to the terminal. “Everything alright there, Anna?”

“Uh, sure, nothing I can’t handle. Maybe. Depends on what you have for me.”

Grep let out a hum. “Well, lucky for you, this shouldn’t be too long. Nothing crazy, either. We have a client there enrolling under a commercial spacecraft policy. Put your tablet up to the terminal, and I’ll send you the form you need to fill out while checking out the ship. Make sure the date of registration and fabrication all match up to what was filled out on the application.”

I watched as my work tablet took on the document I needed. “Got it here. Thank you, Grep. And who is the client? They had an appointment?”

“Ah yes. A Takoan. Uh, they are quite the big sort, red skin, tentacles. The name is Ignan.”

“I see…” I nodded, turning back. The client was just outside the door, his appendages down behind his back with foot tapping away. “I think I see him right now. I’ll, uh, get this done, Grep.”

With a brush of my hair and a slap to my cheeks, I turned back around to face the towering client waiting outside the too-small doors. I presented myself before his impatient mass with long, even strides. “I apologize greatly for the incompeten— inconvenience, today, sir. Luckily, it seems your appointment is in my hands. My name is Anna, serving you as a representative of Cycles Go ’Round. Ignan, I presume?”

“You do not need to presume,” he said with a low, plotting voice. “I am Ignan, yes. My ship needs your insurance, or I cannot fly cargo.”

I nodded and looked down at my tablet, making sure of the details, but mostly to distract myself from the tentacles that served as his arms. “Of course. Then your ship is down on the landing dock?”

“Yes.” He stood, standing in place.

I looked either way, trying to remember the fastest way back down. Ignan stood in place looking over my head. “Is there… anything you need before we head down there? Something I can offer you to drink?”

“No.”

I nodded slowly, deciding to take the first step in the direction I had decided upon. Only once I was a few steps away, I looked back to make sure he was, indeed, following. Ignan remained a few plodding steps behind, but the wait for the lift to reach our level allowed him to thankfully catch up. The handful of passengers inside when the doors opened attempted to step out and pass around me and the client. Whether it was on purpose, or just the fact that he hadn’t seen them beneath his line of sight, I did not know, but there was no choice for any of us but to ride all together, regardless of anyone’s destinations.

I forced a smile back at the other passengers, displaced, but the best I got back was a pair of narrow eyes. Ignan had somehow shuffled himself about to face the door, awaiting the lift to descend once more to the lower levels. The long moments of the other riders breathing down my neck continued, but finally, the doors opened, allowing the both of us out. I worked up the courage to urge Ignan forward with an open hand, and by some work of chance, he accepted.

As we moved on in what was hopefully the direction of his craft, I attempted another round of talk— not by choice, but to hopefully eke out a good business rapport. “Have you been in this system long?”

“No,” he said in a way that I assumed to mean ‘stop talking’.

One of the slips further up was occupied by a craft that was undoubtedly belonging to Ignan, a commercial hauling craft in fresh, red paint, with a front set of windows that could have been on the penthouse at the top of a reasonably uncheap hotel.

Ignan stepped up beside it and dragged his tentacles against the smooth paint, finally rapping them against the hollow-sounding metal surface. “It is a… byoot?”

“It is… a, ah, a beauty?” I said, my mind catching up. “Yes, I could certainly say that.”

The red creature shuffled back, digging in the pockets of overalls before tentacling me a clasp of cards. “What I was told was needed.”

I took them from his appendage and scanned them. “Ah, perfect. So you had them with you this whole time. Even… better. Yes, these all match.”

With them offered back to Ignan, I fumbled with the tablet to ready it for the next step. “Well, to finalize things, I will have to give it a visual inspection, make sure it looks space ready and safe. Although, it looks completely new, doesn’t it?”

“It is new. A byoot. Expensive.”

“Indeed,” I nodded along with his proud gyrations. In what felt like a half-marathon, I made my way around the red rocket in the slip, taking in every angle I could. Ignan was in the same place I left him by the driver’s port, admiring his reflection, or at least the paint job.

“Ohkayyy….” I hummed to grab his attention. “Uh, the last thing is… just to look at the cargo hold to make sure it has all the necessary fixtures.”

Ignan nodded and began shuffling toward the back. At the rear, he offered me a look inside the massive double doors. I allowed myself inside, activating a motion-sensitive light. I held my breath, faced with a quite vacuous collection of cages, all big enough to certainly hold me and bigger. The craft shifted under my feet, and I found the large fellow coming in after, not an inch to move elsewhere.

“I, uh…”

“You remind me.” He muttered.

“Of what… exactly?”

“Are you the… milking type?”

I nearly dropped my tablet in a reflexive motion to cover my chest with my arm. I had never been accused of being gifted in any sense of the word, but similarly, I had never heard the term ‘milking’ for any sort of function any species possessed. “I… uh… it is possible, but… uh… only under certain… very specific… conditions.”

“Mammal!” Ignan slapped at his forehead with a free tentacle. “Mammal is the word. When you ask me if I wanted to drink, I remembered my question!”

His mumbling continued as he turned back, stepping back out of the cargo hold. With eyes daring to look around him for an escape path or a possible savior, I followed. “My species is… mammalian, yes.”

Ignan nodded furiously and turned back. “Mammals are not in my system. Do they always need milk?”

“After they grow up… they don’t need it really. And there are plenty of other things that could be a substitute, especially these days.”

Ignan clapped a pair of tentacles together. “Perfect. That would have been tough to make. But not needed. I want to open a pet business of mammals.”

“A… pet business?”

“A dog. A cat. A squelka. My people love seeing them in far-off television broadcasts. They are so nice to see. And to pet. I want to pet a cat. I want to bring them to my system and let people have pets. They nice.”

“Pets… are nice, indeed.”

Ignan finally turned back. “Can my ship do it? Is it good enough for insurance and business?”

“Well, I don’t see why not,” I said, sighing a breath of relief. “I shall… head back up and get this processing. You will be contacted about your status in… at least one hemicycle.”

The fellow bowed to me the best he could. “Thank you very much, Cycles Go ’Round girl. I wish you luck with your milk, as well.”

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