A Ride Home

By Kandi J. Wyatt

“CAL! Get me out of here!” Walden screamed into his comlink.

The whine of blasters sent him scurrying around trees and jumping branches as he bounded through the woods where he’d landed that morning. At least CAL had the foresight to scan the local channels and had seen the proclamation. How the Lothean government knew he was here remained a mystery, unless his contact had snitched on him. After all, the bounty on Terrans was enough to make any poor sod give up his own grandmother.

“I am sorry, Captain. I do not recognize that protocol.” The computer’s voice sounded tinny and foreign as Walden swung a large vine away from his face.

“CAL, I need you to prep the launcher for return to space.” Walden barely kept the frustration out of his voice, what with huffing and puffing. It’d been a while since he’d had to outrun customs agents.

“Affirmative, Captain. Will we be returning to the vanguard?”

“Yes!”

Walden hadn’t wanted this assignment, but it’d been all but gift-wrapped and handed to him. It was supposed to have been an easy connection, the beginnings of trade with the new planet, and would give enough payback for him to retire. But everything had gone wrong—from the hazardous landing to discovering the bounty on Terrans. Now he just wanted to go home—far away from this planet, far from the stupid ship’s computer that couldn’t help him in any way. A simple life sounded wonderful at the moment.

A leaf to Walden’s right exploded, and he swore. If he ever got hold of that lousy excuse for a Lothean trader, he’d skin him alive—from the top of his scaly head to the tip of his flat tail. “CAL, how much longer before you’re ready to take off?”

There! The lander was in sight. Only forty meters to go, but his left leg suddenly gave out from underneath him with searing pain. His arm tangled in the vines, leaving him half-hanging, half-lying sprawled like a flag for anyone to see, and effectively incapable of reaching his ship.

“Captain, we can leave whenever you arrive.”

Great, just what he needed. The irony forced a grim laugh from his lungs.

“You laugh in the face of danger?” The approaching male spoke Universal with a lilt, in contrast to his reptilian-shaped face. With a free hand he scratched behind a small horn located where an ear should have been. “That is unusual.”

Walden groaned and held in a more scathing retort. Maybe there was a way out of this yet, even if he couldn’t see how. “It may be unusual for Lotheans, Raydigi, but it’s not for Terrans.”

“Then enlighten me on the humor of this?” Raydigi pointed his blaster at Walden’s head.  “If I remember Terran anatomy correctly, a blow to the temple will end your life.”

Walden had taught his contact that bit of information as a way of showing trust. Now Raydigi turned it back on him. He closed his eyes as he reevaluated what he’d do to the dirt bag. The guy hadn’t ratted him out to the government. He’d come for the bounty himself.

“What, no laughter now?” Raydigi pressed the hot muzzle to Walden’s temple.

Out of reflex, he flinched, but Raydigi’s arm held the weapon steady. Walden had never thought it would end like this—hanging from a whipvine on a distant planet. If anything, he’d thought he’d be able to retire to the mountains and his family’s farm. It’d been ages since he’d even thought of the place. He wondered if his mother still lived there. Shame filled his gut as he realized he’d not contacted her in, what, fifteen years?

“So, what will it be, Walden? Will you allow the Lothean government the honor of execution, or do I just end your suffering right here?” Raydigi glanced around. “Not a bad place to return to dust.”

Walden ground his teeth. The Lothean habit of contemplation drove him crazy, especially when it left him in suspense of how much time he had left to live. “Yes, I wish to live, and if you’re being generous, a glass of moonshine would be welcome, too. I doubt you have that, though.”

Unfortunately, Walden saw no escape in sight, no lucky charm or white rat like his mother used to swear by. The closest thing was his ship.

“That’s what I thought. Most species do, you know.” Raydigi seemed to have ignored the final request. Typical of the Lothean one-track mind. “Yet, there comes a time in each creature’s life where they will be restored to the ground from which they came. I had hoped to be the one to grant you that passage, but since you have requested life, I must give you li—”

Walden stared in surprise as Raydigi disintegrated before his eyes.

“Captain, you are free to live.”

“CAL?” Walden’s voice cracked. He swallowed and turned away from where the trader had stood moments before. “CAL, it’ll take a bit for me to get there.”

“As you wish, Captain, or I can now come to you.”

Sure enough, when CAL had fired the shot that killed Raydigi, he’d cleared a hole in the jungle wide enough for the lander to maneuver through the forest.

“I wish you to come, CAL.”

As the ship landed before him, Walden read the inscription on the side, and for the first time, understood its significance—Computer Assisted Life—CAL. He didn’t understand what words had triggered CAL’s actions, but he didn’t care. It was enough to take him home where he belonged.

Can you guess which song from the 1970's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Even as a young girl, Kandi J. Wyatt had a knack for words. She loved to read them, even if it was on a shampoo bottle! By high school Kandi had learned to put words together on paper to create stories for those she loved. Nowadays, she writes for her kids, whether that’s her own five or the hundreds of students she’s been lucky to teach.

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