By H. M. Hershberger
I thumb my radio’s call switch with trembling fingers. “Instructor Enza? This is Amy Macpherson.”
There’s a buzz and pop of static. “Yes?”
“There’s a-a small issue with the trans-universal stabilizer, sir.”
“What?”
“A, ah, gorg rat was chewing on the cables, sir. I chased it off, but the wiring sparked and there was a small explosion and—”
“I get it, trainee,” Instructor Enza growls. “I’ll be down. Call Security.”
“Yes, sir.” I flick the channel dial and suck in a deep breath. Bad idea; the stink of burnt electronics catches in the back of my throat and I double over, coughing. “Macpherson to Security. We have had a TUS failure.” I cough, then continue. “Repeat, a TUS failure. Please be advised that rogue characters”—I let out another throaty hack—“might start manifesting in random places.”
The radio crackles in response. “Macpherson, Security here. Alert acknowledged. Standing by.”
“Got it.” My voice tightens with the effort of holding back another bout of coughing. “Macpherson out.”
A chesty cough rips from my throat. I fumble for my canteen, gulping the lukewarm water, regardless of the liquid that dribbles down my chin and into the mess of sweat and grease already staining my shirt.
I drop the bottle and bend over, gasping, ears straining for anything amiss. A clank of metal and armor echoes down the passage.
I freeze, heart hammering in my throat.
Not a Magorian. Please. Not anything with teeth.
A tall adjacent prowls into the stabilizer room.
I skitter back on all fours. There’s a wrench on the floor and I snatch it, scrambling to my feet. “Stay back!” My arms shake as I jab the wrench at the adjacent’s muscular blue form. “I’ll hit you!”
His gold-ringed pupils narrow. He pulls a shiny plasma-rifle from his back and levels the barrel at me.
The wrench clatters to the floor. That thing will turn me into crispy chicken if I make one wrong move.
“State your name!” he shrills. “You are now subject to the Galactic Federal Union of Fantastic Creatures!”
“I-I don’t know what that is. I’m a trainee mechanic. This dimensional pocket belongs to the Trans-Universal Character Union. I don’t know anything.” The adjacent levels the rifle at my chest. My voice cracks. “Please don’t shoot!”
“Incorrect!” he shrieks. “The GFUFC has colonization rights in all dimensional pockets according to the Trans-Dimensional Agreement of 332C!”
Where is Instructor Enza?
“I-I don’t think that applies here.” I cringe. “We’re a neutral pocket.”
“Incorrect! Submit or die!” The plasma rifle whirs and the barrel begins to glow.
“Please!” I raise my hands, inching toward the wall on shaking legs. “I-I…Let me call my superior. Instructor Enza knows the TDAs back to front. He can negotiate.”
The adjacent’s eyes narrow. “Acceptable! Call this Enza! We will treat with him!”
My radio almost slips from my sweat-slick palms as I tug it off my belt. “Instructor Enza? This is Macpherson. T-There’s a representative from the Galactic F-Federal Union of Fantastic Creatures who wants to speak with you.”
“I’m almost there, Macpherson. Tell the good representative not to try anything rash.”
The plasma rifle glows malevolently. I gulp. “Of course, sir.” I glance up at the adjacent’s slitted pupils. “He’s almost here.”
He glares at me. “Prepare for deportation, subject! You will soon be—”
The door clunks open and Instructor Enza strides in. He fixes the adjacent with a shrewd stare. “What TDA do you think gives you the right to colonize this pocket?”
“332C!”
I wince. Why does this adjacent end all his sentences with exclamation points?
Instructor Enza narrows his eyes and reaches up to smooth his receding hairline. “The TDA of 332C dictates the rights of independent pockets and stuff, not colonization rights. Under the previous TDA of 122C, this pocket is registered to the TUCU and cannot be claimed by any other government, empire, or tyrannical dictatorship.” He whips the TDA up on his docu-projector and shoves the hologram in the adjacent’s face.
The adjacent scowls at the projected lines of text. His lips flatten as he reaches the end. “Unfortunately acceptable!” He slings the plasma rifle over his shoulder and glowers at Instructor Enza, then me. “You have defended your pocket! We will withdraw!”
I sag against the wall. I feel boneless.
Instructor Enza watches the adjacent troop off down the corridor with a baleful expression. “Governments never read their own paperwork. Disgraceful.” He turns to me and nods. “Well done, lass. You handled the situation admirably.”
My cheeks burn. “I don’t think so, sir. I-I was terrified.”
A smile tugs at the corner of Instructor Enza’s mouth. “Everyone’s terrified, Macpherson. You kept your head and called for backup.”
My mouth drops open and I snap it shut. “I—Thank you, sir.”
Instructor Enza taps something into his admin-band. “How does a course in advanced stabilizer mechanics sound? Competence begets reward.”
I glance at the smoldering trans-universal stabilizer and straighten. “It sounds timely, sir.”
Instructor Enza’s eyes twinkle. “Excellent. You start tomorrow.”
My boots thump together as I snap a salute. “Yes, sir!”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Your ability to pull of fantastical jargon and make it sound believable is so impressive. 😂 Nicely done, Hannah!
Great story!
They must really be fantasy creatures, because I’ve never heard of a colonial force turned back by paperwork
I love how you used Joe Enza in this. Great thriller!
This is a fun one. I like Joe and Macpherson very much. And I love the comment about the adjacent ending all his sentences with exclamation points.
“Not anything with teeth.” LOL. Fun concept, I love it!