Earl’s Dilemma

By Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

A sizzling screech reverberated through the Mud Runner as the laser gouged a line across my hull.

“I never expected to be grateful I didn’t repaint her.” Or so thrilled I hadn’t had the merits for it. I gritted my teeth. “Earl! Why are…”

My co-pilot was not in his seat. I muttered a curse against all androids and rolled the spaceship to one side, avoiding another blast. I glanced down at my navigational array. The Smoky Nebula, one of my favorite hiding spots, was nearby.

I flipped the lever that ejected our garbage. Maybe it would throw off their sensors for a few seconds. Swinging into a hairpin turn, I dove for the nearest space lane—a derelict remnant from humanity’s first attempts at space exploration. However, it still worked. And most importantly, there was no toll.

I pushed the engines to their maximum velocity. We shot through the lane and back into normal space, half a lightyear from “my” nebula. Soon, we were safely hidden in the folds of space dust.

“Earl!” I powered down every system I could and went looking for my mechanized partner.

I found him in the turret, his metal hands clenched around the useless controls of the quad laser. Another component I hadn’t had time or merits to fix.

“Care to explain why I just had to outrun a ship full of mercs intent on blowing us out of the sky?”

If an android could look ashamed, Earl did. An unlit cigar sat between his teeth, and he refused to make eye contact.

“Were you gambling again?”

“I just wanted to win enough to upgrade my pneumatic actuator,” he mumbled around the cigar.

I eyed him. “And?”

“I won.” He twisted his torso, demonstrating a smooth motion that no longer sounded like a rusty gate.

“If you won, why are they chasing you?”

“They accused me of cheating.”

“Did you?”

Earl looked affronted. “Of course not.”

“Earl…”

“I was not cheating. There is nothing in the rules about using advanced circuitry to calculate odds before placing bets.”

“Doggone it, Earl!” I stomped my foot on the metal grating. “No wonder they’re furious! If you wanted an actuator so badly, why didn’t you just ask me?”

Earl’s hands tightened on the quad laser’s controls. “You don’t have merits for luxuries. After that debacle with the chickens, we barely have enough merits for fuel.”

“Don’t remind me.” I glared at the useless controls. Agreeing to accept payment after the chickens laid their golden eggs had been a colossal mistake. How was I to know being attacked by a space dragon would put them off their roosts—nests—whatever—for an entire season?

“Earl, I know this outfit isn’t exactly what you signed up for. But what is the number one thing I have always said?”

“Know when to run,” Earl replied promptly.

“Well… er… yes. But I’ve also tried to teach you to avoid—at all costs—creating a situation you need to run from.”

“You’re not very good at taking your own advice.”

I slumped against the side of the ship. Earl was right. I was flat broke. We were in a pickle, and it would require some creativity to get out. I didn’t generally condone breaking the law or cheating at cards—it was too easy to get killed in either business. Or end up on the run, for which you needed a ship that wasn’t falling to pieces around your ears. But almost-cheater or not, Earl was my co-pilot, and out here, that counted for something.

“All right,” I said. “This is what we’re gonna do—”

It took the better part of three hours to link our communications array to the wing-beacons, but after a few curses and more than a few pinched fingers, we did it.

“Double or nothing.” I swung back into the cockpit.

Carefully edging the ship toward open space, I turned on our new accessory. The ship trembled as the wing-beacons emitted beams of electromagnetic radiation in all directions. I held my breath and considered telling Earl he could go ahead and light his cigar for once.

The mercenaries came into view.

“Earl! Get ready to run!”

They filled our viewscreen, and I knew we’d been spotted. Our number had been called. I scanned the glittering emptiness beyond the viewport, searching… searching… There!

“Punch it, Earl!”

The Mud Runner roared to life. The power of the engines going full-burn pressed me into my seat. I yanked on the throttle, directing the ship’s nose into a backwards, looping arc. The mercs fired.

I felt more than heard the sizzle of the blast under our bellies in the space we’d occupied a heartbeat before. I sent a burst of electromagnetic energy through the wing-beacons toward the other ship just as an enormous, shadowy creature blotted out the stars.

I swiftly killed the array and all power to the Runner. The leviathan slid through the void, surprisingly graceful and swift for a creature of such bulk. It turned suddenly, honing in on the radiation I had painted across the other ship’s hull.

I could see terror on the pilot’s face as he stared up at me through the viewport. I gave a nonchalant little wave. The merc ship turned tail and darted back through the space lane.

“Good riddance!” I leaped to my feet and knocked my head against the upper instrument panel. “Ow!” I glared at the blinking lights, but the pain couldn’t detract from my triumph.

“Won’t they just wait for us at the other end of the lane?” Earl settled into his seat.

“There’s another lane a few parsecs from here that leads to an entirely different region.” I grinned. “Saw an ad for a job out that way.”

“Long as it has nothing to do with chickens,” Earl grumbled.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jenelle Leanne Schmidt first fell in love with stories through her father’s voice reading books aloud each night. A relentless opener-of-doors in hopes of someday finding a passage to Narnia, it was only natural that she soon began making up fantastical realms of her own. Jenelle currently resides in the wintry tundra of Wisconsin —which she maintains is almost as good as Narnia — with her knight-in-shining armor and their four hobbits.

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