By A. Z. Pascoe
Spark Spaulding showed up the way he always did—swaggering, thirsty, and full of stories. “Hey-o, Bernard! The usual, and a cheeseburger, cheers. I’m bloody starving.”
I nodded across the bar.
Several seats away, our preening android waiter perked up at the sight of a human. He hurried over, sculpted shoulders straining against his tight white shirt. “Such a pleasure to see you again, sir,” Willy burbled, sweet gravelly voice echoing around the empty bar. “No pickles, if I remember correctly?”
Like the little twerp didn’t have as much memory and computing power in his perfectly rounded silicon pinky nail as some starships. He was batting his overlong lashes, as thrilled to have a patron as Spark was to have a captive audience. Their murmured conversation continued, highlighted by Willy’s trilling laughter—incongruous, really, in an Adonis-shaped bot.
I tuned them out, reaching for a glass and shaker as I scanned the gleaming jars atop the bench. Cosmic squid jelly running low; sweet-oak sap, on the other hand, almost full and surely nearing the use-by date. Eh—Spark wouldn’t notice. He’d already begun some madcap story about an eco-train heist in yet another dimension which had, of course, been a sure thing until it turned out the organizers had no intention of paying in any useful currency. Classic, but what could he expect when—
The engines rumbled under my feet, and my head snapped up. Outside, the galaxy streaked into a billion filament strands of starlight as we jumped into hyperdrive.
Willy flushed.
“Dammit, Spark,” I groaned, slamming the shaker down. No point blaming the robot. “We just got to the Miraway System, and I like this system—”
“Now don’t be mad, Bern,” Spark cut in, leaning over the bar. His sequined epaulettes sparkled beneath the downlights in an uncanny imitation of the universes streaming past our windows. “It’s not like you had a lot of business going on, didcha?” He flashed his trademark winning smile. I considered sneaking pickles onto his burger in retaliation.
“We come here so rarely,” I said with a sigh. I wouldn’t get to enjoy the sights. Again. “Are we never going to discuss how in the seven stars the ship always jumps once you arrive?” I selected one of our signature Saturn-shaped ice cubes—floating rings included, of course—and popped it into a crystal brandy balloon, then poured. Silver and gold fumes steamed gently off Spark’s multi-hued cocktail, runes and fleeting pictures swirling against the glass. My mother swore she read omens in it. I’d never had the knack.
Spark breathed deeply of the vapors and loosed an enormous sigh. “Magnificent. You truly are a wizard, old friend.”
I smiled and let the friend comment slide. I wasn’t sure I had any, or if Spark did either, but I’d put money on us not being them. The burger appeared, steaming, from the counter hatch—sadly free of any vengeance pickles—and Spark plowed through it like a man starving.
“Damn good, of course,” he said, gurgling around a mouthful.
Willy had vanished. I frowned; he rarely missed a chance to fawn over Spark. The bar was too empty with just the two of us, so I polished more glasses that didn’t need polishing and wiped down the bar again. A glance at the countertop display revealed we hadn’t yet stopped. A lag, perhaps. That happened sometimes, particularly if Willy was distracted; silly to put the waitstaff and the main navigational drive in one robot.
“I’ll grab another, thanks,” Spark said.
I jerked up to see him wiping remnant sauce from his chin. He blew his nose loudly, then tapped the rim of his glass in case I hadn’t heard him. As I worked, he drummed gnawed-short nails on the bar, probably to arrest the urge to chew them further. They were slightly bloody again; he’d been nervous recently, then. A distant warning rang dully in the back of my mind.
“Tough gig, eh?” I asked, not caring for the answer. But when I served his drink, Spark’s gaze caught mine.
“Shall I tell you a tale, Bern?” He breathed the words. I was acutely aware of his muscled forearms braced on the bar’s polished black marble, the peridot gleam of his eyes. He always did think too much of himself, Spark—but I’d be a fool to say he wasn’t rather good-looking. Or perhaps the swagger made me think that; I gave myself a small mental shake. Spark wielded his looks for his own advantage too often for me not to be intrigued—and careful. But this didn’t seem like the start of his typical tales; despite myself, I was caught.
“Can I stop you?” I asked.
Spark leaned forward, gaze smoldering. Then, the engines groaned under my feet again. Strangely, the bar lurched. Glassware tinkled. I frowned at the floor. Where the hell was Willy?
Spark was almost out the door by the time I looked up. “Well, it’s been delightful, but I’d better be off.”
“Hey, wait a second… Spark!”
He pivoted on one ornately embroidered leather cowboy boot. “Mm?”
“If that heist—the eco-train one—didn’t go to plan… What are you doing here? You always said we were your victory bar.”
A smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, settled in to stay. “I had some other business in hand, you know, Bern. Never put all your light-orbs in one satchel, so they say.”
Klaxon sirens blared in my skull. “What other business? Where’s Willy?”
Willy popped out of the shadows beyond the doorway, looking guilty, and Spark’s grin turned nuclear. “Well, Bern, Willy decided he’d like to see the galaxy, maybe try some other ventures—with me, of course, to show him the way. He was a bit… underutilized in this joint.” He took Willy’s hand. “I’m sure your corporate overlords can absorb some unexpected damages.”
Spark winked again and vanished.
I cursed. The bastard still had my snifter.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“Never put all your light-orbs in one satchel” is good advice. A critical mass of light orbs will form a black hole, a dark devourer that inexorably draws everything into it’s inescapable maw, and your satchel will be ruined.
Fun setting. Spark being sneaky and charming as ever. Great voice!
This was an enjoyable read!
Really nice. I love the beauty of the descriptions and how richly this world is detailed, and of course I like this version of Spark, and also the narrator, Bern.