Ten Light-Years To Insanity

Chapter 1-2

The Earthling's annoying questions interrupted Morg's daydreaming about his situation, offspring, and mate. Damn him. Why did he have to disturb such wonderful thoughts and memory playback?

“What did you say, Earthling?”

“I said, are you listening to me? If you’re not going to listen, then I’m going to work on the Shadow Drive system6.”

Letting the Earthling near the Shadow Drive system was the last thing Morg wanted. He was unqualified to work on it and lacked the basic intelligence and dexterity to understand the system. The last time he worked on it, the transport’s propulsion system crashed. They drifted in space for four days until Morg could correct the Earthling’s improvements.

Morg fought the urge to physically silence the Earthling. “Yes, I’m definitely listening to you. What a wonderful story. Don’t stop now. Please continue, Earthling.”

“You better listen, Morg. You know what the commander told you about getting me to Earth in one piece and making sure I arrive there happy as hell.”

“Yes, yes, I remember. Please continue. Tell me again about that…what did you call her?”

“A bird. A chickee-poo. A plaything. I swear, you are hopeless, Morg. Have you always been this dense? Let loose a little, buddy. You don’t have to be so uptight with me.”

It was a good thing the Earthling couldn’t read his thoughts. Otherwise, he would find out how close he was to a gruesome, painful death.

“Okay, now try to stay with me, Morg. As I was saying, this bird and I were getting to know each other really good. But you can only screw around so much, right? So, as the days went by, I began to worry about how I was going to get out of this predicament. Somehow, I had to get off this Crelon ship and make my way back to Earth or a friendly planet.”

The Earthling paused and looked over at Morg to see if he was listening. Morg could feel his beady little eyes boring into him so he pretended to listen by flushing his breathing gills. From the time he spent on Yanda, the Earthling knew this meant his shipmate was focused and paying attention, so he continued his story.

“Then, one day, I overheard two Crelon guards laughing about how their human cargo was going to be auctioned off on a planet named Treestte 64. I had been eavesdropping on the Crelon guards for weeks learning their language. What I heard wasn't encouraging. I wasn’t thrilled about being sold to the highest bidder on an alien planet. But what I heard next blew my mind. Apparently, the inhabitants of Treestte 64 consider humans a delicacy. That’s right, those losers eat humans and are willing to pay big for dining on human flesh and bones.”

The Earthling took a couple sips from the overhead energy feeder7 to clear his throat. “Now, I was really starting to worry. How the hell was I going to avoid being a drumstick on a Treestteian’s dinner table?”

One look at the Earthling told Morg he had reached the only enjoyable part of the story. The image of the Earthling roasted and served on a Treestteian banquet table was exhilarating. The mere fact that the Earthling still broke out in a sweat when retelling this part of the story made Morg ecstatic. He wanted to let his pleasure pods8 display their aqua and chartreuse colors of elation but knew this would annoy the Earthling.

“Well, I saw my chance when we got to Treestte 64. Being a clever guy, I noticed right away that the Treestteians loved foul odors. When they came by the holding pens for pre-auction inspections, my fellow inmates with the foulest body odor attracted the most attention. And, let me tell you, after two months on a slave transport without a shower or bath made us very ripe. But there were some who were intolerable. Those were the ones the Treestteians flocked to as though they were celebrities.”

Morg looked for a chance to daydream again but could see the Earthling was keeping a close eye on him while he blabbered away.

“I had a couple days before the auction, so I did everything I could think of to clean myself and try to smell fresh. I took at least half of my water ration each day and hand washed. When I ran out of water, I stole and begged for more from the other captives. My girlfriend was an easy target. She couldn’t understand why I needed so much water but gave me most of her ration. There was no way I was going to tell her the real reason. I knew one captive might be able to deceive the bidders and auctioneer but two would be unlikely. So, I kept making up stories about why I needed her water. She was a good girl and I should have told her what I was up to, but you know, everything is fair in love and war. Besides, she gave her life for a worthy cause.” The Earthling pointed to himself and started to cackle. He amused himself by lackadaisically describing his girlfriend’s sacrificial death.

“When auction day came, the auctioneer went through the holding pens sniffing each captive. He wanted to make sure they reeked of body odor. When he came to me, he knew something was wrong. He smelled under my arms, on the backside and from top to bottom. He was not happy that I was nearly odorless. He began to throw a fit but then the auction chimes rang. He mumbled something under his breath and led the other captives to the auction bidding pit. The bidding was hot and furious. The smelliest captives were coveted and commanded the highest prices. The few who still had a few pounds of weight after the long journey on the transport were highly sought after. In fact, a few fights broke out in the auction pits over the fattest and smelliest humans.”

As many times as Morg heard this story, he never bothered to ask what happened to the Earthling’s girlfriend. For some strange reason, this time he took the opportunity to ask.

“What’s that? Oh, a gruesome-looking Treestteian bought her. I waved to her and tried to look heart-broken as she was led away in chains. At one point, she collapsed to the ground weeping and shrieking. I’m sure she was a tasty morsel.” The Earthling winked an eye at Morg and grinned. There was no question this gesture had some type of underlying meaning. Morg didn’t have a clue what it meant but figured it had to be something loathsome. He refused to demean himself by asking for an explanation.

After years as an Invasion Trooper, Morg had become callous and hard. He wasn't very sentimental. But, in this case, he felt sorrow for the female Earthling that got suckered by the jerk sitting next to him.

“Well, when I got to the auction block the bidders backed away. The Treestteian sense of smell is very sensitive. From fifteen to twenty feet, they could tell I was almost free from body odor. In their minds, my fresh scent indicated that I had a terrible disease.”

“The auctioneer opened the bidding and waited. No bids came from the remaining audience. He did everything he could to get a bid, hoping to get rid of me. The bidders started to leave the pit, wanting nothing to do with me. When there were only a few remaining, the Treestteian auctioneer offered to give me away for free. Not one bidder accepted his offer. He finally gave up and put me back in the holding pen, cursing the entire time.”

The auctioneer was livid and laid into the Crelon slavers; “Here, you take this diseased human. Get him out of my sight. And, don’t ever come back here again with an inferior product.”

“The Crelon slavers weren’t happy that they had to haul my a*s around after leaving Treestte 64. They decided to make my life as miserable as hell. Every day on their transport was a day of s*****y. Clean this, pick up that, make and serve food. And, there were some unmentionable things which an important Earthling, like me, shouldn’t be forced to do.”

Morg thought to himself, “⊬⟒⏃⊑, ⊬⍜⎍’⍀⟒….” “Yeah, you’re important all right. If it wasn’t for your old man, you would be back on Yanda scrubbing trash pits. You're lucky he is the Prefect and General Counsel for Earth’s Global Union Assembly. He demanded your safe return to Earth as a condition for finalizing the treaty agreement with Yanda.”

Morg couldn’t stop the negative thoughts that flooded his mind. He fought to put a positive spin on the situation. “Earthling, if you had been bought on Treestte 64, I wouldn’t be sitting here listening to your whiny, obnoxious diatribe. I’d be doing something important like leading an invasion brigade or rubbing with my mate. Oh well, I lasted this long without throttling you. With the help of my ancestors, I’m sure I can last until this mission is finished.” Morg was ready to flip off his translator when he heard the kid say, “Finally, the Crelon slavers put in at that pathetic planet you call home. Tell me the truth, Morg. Aren't you embarrassed by Yanda? It’s so damn dreary…. and, smelly. By the way, what’s with that constant vibration in the air on Yanda? It never stops and no matter where you go, it follows you.”

“Earthling, for your information, that vibration is ....”

“I know, I know. It’s something you guys do to maintain orbital balance, blah, blah, blah. That’s not important. Be quiet for a minute and let me finish my story.”

Morg was fuming. He was so mad he couldn’t put together a coherent thought. If he had, the Earthling would have heard a few choice Yandan swear words and curses. He was ready to turn off is translator but decided to keep it on. There was a strange desire to hear if the kid said anything else insulting about Yanda.

“Well, I’m sure you want to hear how I got back at the Crelon slavers, so listen closely because I’m not going to repeat this.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to interrupt, you piece …” Morg caught himself before finishing the sentence. He could wait for a better opportunity to verbally blast the Earthling.

“The Crelons sold me to a Yandan creep who wanted a flunky to do his monotonous labor. I was constantly working, cleaning, and taking care of those Yandan Nortels9 you all love to smell and eat. As part of the deal, the Yandan offered his residence as a party house. I must admit, those boys, or girls, I guess Crelons are both, know how to throw a party. It went on around the clock for days. I’ve never seen anything to compare to the addiction, drunkenness, and debauchery the Crelons cooked up. Anyhow, the official departure clearance for the Crelon ship arrived at the Yandan house. I was lucky enough to intercept and read it. I knew exactly when they were cleared to leave Yanda. I had less than six hours to execute my revenge.”

The Earthling took another sip from his energy feeder. Out of the corner of his eye, he scowled at Morg making sure the Yandan was paying attention. After all, this was the best part of the entire story and he wanted to make sure his flight buddy heard every word.

“Before the Crelons left for the launch terminal, I put a couple cases of Brofult in their vehicle. As you know, they love that drink. Personally, I think it tastes like crap but the Crelons and you guys love it. Now, here’s the kicker. What the Crelons didn’t know was that I loaded the Brofult with a laxative. There was enough in each container to turn their insides out.”

The Earthling stopped to shake his head and laugh at his cunning deed. “I knew they would hit the Brofult hard as soon as they jumped a light year or so away from Yanda. They did, and I watched it on the transponders I hid on their ship. God, it was hilarious. Seeing the expressions on their faces when they started getting sick and doubling over in excruciating pain was great. And, then they started crapping. It was funnier than hell. There was Crelon crap everywhere and, best of all, there were no slaves on board to clean it up.”

Morg sat there and watched the Earthling laugh uproariously for a couple minutes. The kid was certainly his own best fan. Finally, the laughter faded, and he got up from his gyro chair. “Morg, I got to get some shut-eye. Wake me in a couple hours, buddy. If you’re lucky, I’ll show you that recording from the bridge of the Crelon ship. Oh, and by the way, put in coordinates to stop at Feltte Six. I hear they got some high-flying birds on that planet.”

Morg watched in disbelief as the Earthling strutted off the ship’s bridge and headed for the sleeping quarters. He was stunned. It took until the Earthling was out of sight before his parting words started to register. With his translator still on, Morg started to mumble under his breath, spitting out each word with increasing anger.

“You want to stop where? What the hell do you think this is, a tour transport? Getting your jerk-a*s to Earth is a top-secret mission. But you think it would be fun to stop at a planet known to harbor some of the worst criminals in the universe. Are you insane, Earthling?”

Morg paused to take a deep breath so the anger pods on the top of his head wouldn’t blow open. These pods had never blown open except in combat. But here he was in deep space, alone with an inferior creature who had pushed him to his limits. He allowed the Earthling to get under his scales. In war, he could strike back. All he could do now was fume and mumble, “Earthling, if you try to show me that playback of the Crelons crapping all over themselves one more time, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll make you wish that you left Yanda on their ship.”