SWNOVELS Chapter CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the Veezahn star system can be found a very unique planet. Its surface; a lush green forest, whose waters aren’t large bodies like the oceans seen on most habitable planets, but rather as a series of rivers and streams that carve through the greenery, from pole to pole. It rests in the inner-reaches of the habitable zone, keeping its poles quite comfortable by Earth standards. The planet is known only as ‘Here’. This is due to the inauspicious circumstances of its native inhabitants’ first contact with extra-terrestrial life.
The Fuumolaans are an odd race and the product of how a different evolutionary path can yield a much more harmonious result. Unlike other species, the Fuumolaans have never known war or oppression. They have never grown to fear those who are different or distrust strangers. They also feed primarily on a native herb that has a stupefying effect on those who consume it. So, when their Veezahn neighbours landed on their planet, they were not overly surprised to see the first new race they would ever encounter. As exo-linguistics can be tricky during first contact, some things got lost in translation. When the Veezahn landing party asked the Fuumolaans what the name of this new world was, they simply told them that they had landed “Here”. The Veezahns, being such a literal culture failed to see that this was a simple case of miscommunication, and the planet was forever known by that accidental title.
Van sat back in his seat, his stomach roared with hunger. The fresh food had run out almost a week ago and the ‘food blocks’ that the ship’s nutrition synthesiser spat out, while capable of maintaining survival, tasted and felt like a cardboard sponge. He had no money, as his most recent jobs had paid him only in a continued life and not in cha-ching, as was his preference. He’d began to dream of gourmet cooking over the last couple of days, which made his waking into the real world a real downer. He checked the cupboards and fridge again, still nothing. He sighed and trudged toward the synthesiser.
He pressed the button on its front and the machine dropped a large, brown cube into an open slot beneath. He pulled it out and stared at it. His mind wandered to memories of every time he’d squandered his fresh food supply, mentally tabulating how much food that would equate to and how much he wished he had it now. Yukimi entered the kitchen from behind him.
“Finally switching to a more efficient form of sustenance, I see,” she commented.
“Not out of choice,” replied Van drearily, “we’re out of fresh food and money. I have to eat this crap.” He bit a chunk out of the brown cube and winced at its fowl taste. “I don’t suppose the planet we’re going to gives away free food?”
“Actually, there is a reasonable probability that they will. My data suggests that they are a very hospitable people that have no capitalist infrastructure, so a simple trade of resources, should suffice as payment for goods, at the very least.”
“Oh,” said Van, trying to detect any sarcasm, “well, I’m starting to look forward to arriving now.”
“Of course it has been some time since the planet was visited so they could be completely different by now.”
“Aaaand, you ruined it.”
“I don’t understand, please explain.”
“Forget it,” sighed Van, tearing off another chunk of his cubed lunch, “I guess it’s a human thing. Speaking of which, have you seen Dallas around?”
“I assume he is in his quarters,” answered Yukimi, “I heard some grunting about an hour ago, as I passed his door.”
“You sure that data’s not out of date too?” grinned Van. Yukimi smiled back at him and got herself a food cube, before retiring to the lounge area with another book. Van finished off his food cube and followed her to the lounge.
He reclined into a sofa plant and flicked on the view screen. Nothing but Veezahn TV, the most boring media in the known Universe, but what do you expect from a race that ‘never felt the need for humour’. He shut off the screen and closed his eyes.
“Hey, Yukimi,” he said.
“Yes, Van?”
“You know how I was sentenced to death?”
“Yes…”
“Well, I don’t suppose a death certificate was registered, was it?”
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be, we needed to show the inhabitants of Thosisa, that justice was done. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Van smiled to himself. No doubt Mondo would have caught wind of the death sentence by now. Things were actually looking up for a change.
Since the debacle on planet POP!!! Yukimi had begun to open up, a little. Well, perhaps not ’open’ but she was willing to extend a conversation past mission specifics. She’d never initiate a general conversation, but she no longer portrayed an aversion to the concept. Dallas had even spoken to her about ancient Japanese animation, a subject, which she was actually quite well versed in as it turned out. However, there was one topic that Van had been meaning to ask about that he hadn’t realised until right now, was the thing he wanted to know the most;
“how come you don’t look like other Skolareans? I don’t wanna be rude, but are all females of your species more ‘human’ in shape?”
Yukimi looked a little taken aback by this question. She put down her book and sat up in her seat. She seemed at a loss for words. She pushed a stray hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She looked nervous about answering; “well,” she said awkwardly, “If you must know, I am a hybrid of the species. There are no Skolarean females, at least not naturally. Skolareans reproduce through mitosis. I was engineered to be the best equipped for the work I would do.”
Van raised his eyebrows, then quickly lowered them to avoid his surprise causing offence to the clearly uncomfortable woman sat across from him.
“Cool,” he said, unable to think of anything else. An awkward silence hung in the air. “So, they don’t have females?”
“No,” replied Yukimi, happy that the tension had been cut, “They are an asexual species. I was only given a gender so that I could collect data on- specific experiences. But research also suggests that females are more likely to be shown lenience in social faux pas.”
Van didn’t know what it looked like when Skolarean’s blushed, but he was pretty sure that was what he was seeing.
“Huh, always wondered why I’d never met a female Skolarean before... So, have you ever researched those specific experiences- ARRGH!!!”
Yukimi had seen through Van’s poorly vailed attempt at seduction and shocked him. He rolled off of the sofa plant and laid face down on the floor. Yukimi stepped over him and left the room. Strike two thought Van. His recovery was short lived however, within moments the proximity alert sounded, they had reached ‘Here’.
Van dragged his aching body to the cockpit and made planet-fall, landing in a clearing somewhere in the northern hemisphere. He then went to his room and loaded up on light-weight armour and grabbed Charlotte. He was so glad he hadn’t taken her to Thosisa, if she had been confiscated along with the fat-suits he would have been really pissed off. He holstered her then stuffed a few extra charge cartridges into his pockets. He also made a point to grab some random junk from around his room that he could trade for food. He had to eat something that hadn’t been ‘shit out’ by a kitchen appliance.
He made his way to the cargo bay, where Dallas and Yukimi were already assembled. Dallas nodded “hello” but Yukimi actively ignored him. She had changed into a jungle friendly exploration suit. It allowed for acrobatic movement, had plenty of straps and pockets and (in Van’s opinion) showed just the right amount of skin. Also it was ‘combat green’.
“Alright gentlemen,” she said without looking up, “while we’re on this planet, you should follow my lead. I am trained to deal with other cultures such as this one and the plant life on Here is notoriously unpredictable. Keep up and you’ll walk away from this unscathed.” She turned and fell down the cargo bay ramp.
“I’m not doing that,” Dallas shouted after her.
They made their way down the ramp in a normal way and stood with the now vertical Yukimi. Van got the sense she was blushing again and Dallas could only focus on the orange leaf that was now in her hair.
“Not a word,” she said, “let’s just go this way.”
She made her way across the clearing, towards a tree line to the East. The two men followed, snickering to each other. The three explorers made their way into the deep forest of bizarre, mismatched foliage. The various insect noises made them feel like they were in a tropical jungle. Fallen branches crunched under their feet as they ventured deeper and deeper into the humid overgrowth.
“So where are we going?” asked Dallas, “we’ve been walking for half an hour and my pants are like ‘ball soup’ at this point.”
“We’re looking for Fuumolaans,” replied Yukimi, “My botany knowledge doesn’t extend to plants that only grow on one, barely-visited planet. So I need to utilise local resources.”
“And what is a ’Fuumolaan’?”
“The dominant species of this particular planet. However, as Veezahns keep negligently undetailed reports, I don’t know what they look like. That being the case, I will be using a trial and error approach to finding them.”
“So, we’re wandering randomly in the hope that we find a creature that we don’t know anything about?” asked Dallas, blankly.
“Shhh!” said Yukimi, stopping abruptly.
There was a rustling sound eminating from a bush ahead of them which looked like it was covered in oranges. She crept towards it, slowly raising her hands in a defensive stance, and extending one hand to the bush, penetrating its surface with her fingertips. Suddenly the leaves burst apart and all the leaves flew off in a swarm. Yukimi fell back, landing hard on her backside, “not a word,” she said without turning around.
“Yeah, those things suck,” came a voice from behind them. They all turned to see a bearded, 2 foot tall gnome, sat on a mossy log, wearing a knitted hoodie that hung down to his ankles. He looked at Dallas, who was still wearing his red hooded jacket; “Nice threads, dude.”
“Thanks, man,” replied Dallas with a smile.
“H-E-L-L-O,” said Yukimi, annotating with her hands, “We, are travellers from beyond the stars. We aren’t going to hurt you, we just need help. Do you understand? We ‘good’, no hurt, yes?”
The gnome looked at her curiously, as he sucked on a long wooden pipe. He turned to Dallas and Van, “dudes, I think your friend’s banged her head or somethin’. You ok, lady-dude? You want some crayons and junk?” Yukimi stood upright, embarrassed by the misunderstanding.
“Are you a Fuumolaan?” asked Van, thoroughly entertained by what was going on but still eager to get this drawn out mission over and done with. The gnome shrugged and took another drag of his pipe. “How about this. Do you live around here?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve got, like, a village over there,” he pointed into the distance, “You guys wanna come and, like, hang out or whatever?”
“That sounds fabulous,” said Yukimi, “we have many things we would like to ask.”
“Cool, I guess,” said the gnome, “It’s this way.”
He hopped to his feet and slung a satchel over his shoulder, which appeared to have been crafted from leaves. He waddled past them, through the space where the living bush had once stood. The three visitors followed him.
They ducked under branches and vines until the plant life gave way to another clearing. The space was filled with a grouping of small, wooden huts. The village was populated with lots more of the gnome people of varying ages, none of which batted an eye when the three giant aliens were led through. Not even the children seemed to care.
The gnome from the forest led them to the far end of the village and up to a slightly larger cabin, with what appeared to be a patio area outside of it.
“You guys, like, chill out here and I’ll, like, grab some drinks and some dried herb for us.” He disappeared into the wooden shack. Dallas turned to Van;
“I knew that bag he was carrying smelled familiar.”
“Totally, this is what I needed, a planet where no one wants me dead.”
“Focus, you two,” said Yukimi, “We need information from these people then we’re off. Don’t get too comfortable.”
The gnome came back outside carrying a basket that smelled as strong as Dallas’ herb tin. He set it down and lit a fire in a shallow pit in the middle of the patio. His three guests squatted in a circle around it. The gnome sat on a small cushion and pulled the basket toward him. He reached inside and retrieved three long pipes, or at least they seemed long when compared to his tiny hands. He passed them out to each of his companions.
“Oh, shit,” he said, “I totally spaced on the drinks. My bad, hang on.”
He turned his head towards the shack and whistled. A small, monkey-looking creature around half the gnome’s size, appeared in the door, carrying a tray of cups on its head. It swayed as it walked, the weight of the miniature tray affecting its balance. It circled the group, so that they could unburden its tray of their beverages, then it hurried over to the basket. Quick as a flash, the mini-monkey had grabbed several large buds of herb and expertly shredded it before stuffing it into the four pipes. Van and Dallas watched the creature go about its business, with a sense of awe. This was the most convenient thing that either of them had ever seen. And that included the self-digesting meal.
“My name’s ‘Fizgogg’, by the way”, said the gnome, “not ‘Fuumo-whatever’. Those other dudes kept calling me that too. Is that like a space word, or something? Y’know like ‘Jeff’.”
“Nah, man,” said Dallas, who had already started smoking his pipe, “It’s the name of the creature you are. Like, my Name’s Dallas, but the creature I am is called a ‘human’. Get it?”
“Whoa!” said Fizgogg, “Mind. Blown. You space guys think of all kinds of stuff.”
He took a drag of his pipe, burning its entire contents in one inhalation. The monkey sprang into action and replenished the pipes. All except for Yukimi’s pipe, she had chosen to forego the substance she was sure would make her less intelligent.
“You said there were others?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“When I asked you if you were a Fuumolaan, you said that other ‘space guys’ had said the same thing?”
“Oh yeah,” said Fizgogg, sipping from his small, clay mug, “Those dudes, they were looking for, like, fruit or something. I don’t know, they were pretty lame anyway.”
“Are they still here?”
“I don’t know, maybe. They built this big plastic house near the ergot fruit trees, but that was, like, a long time ago.”
“How long ago?” pressed Yukimi.
“I don’t know, dude. We don’t get hung up on stuff like ‘time’ here, that stuff’s always moving, y’know?”
“Sorry ’bout her, Fizgogg. She’s being boring and shit,” said Van. Yukimi flashed the EED trigger in her hand. “I mean, she’s cool and everything, but, umm- Hey, tell you what; can you just show us where the other guys headed off to? I think that’ll cheer her up.”
“That was a nice apology-“
“Van,” prompted Van.
“Van. So I don’t mind showing you dudes where those guys set up shop. Not till tomorrow though, it’s a long ways away, so we’ll have to go in the morning. That cool with you?”
Before Yukimi could rudely insist that they go immediately, Van and Dallas both said that it would be fine. She was clearly unhappy about this, but decided it would be an exercise in futility to push them on the issue.
As the night began to set in, the three weary travellers were treated to an evening they would never forget. The Fuumolaans, it turned out, were among the most generous and hospitable races in the Universe. As the night progressed, more and more of the villagers came to hang out with their new guests. They shared food, drink and intoxicants freely. They even restocked the Bessie’s fridge with fresh fruit and vegetables.
Music and stories were shared, which gave Yukimi a perfect chance to learn more about the Fuumolaan culture as well as knowledge on a lot of the native plant species. Van and Dallas partied with the village people, even letting the gnome-like creatures cling to their shins as they danced. By the time the festivities began to die down, all three of the visitors had succumbed to exhaustion and had curled up near the fire to sleep.
Van awoke several hours later to find that the villagers had covered each of them them with warm blankets as they slept. They had also each been left with what appeared to be a ‘visitor satisfaction questionnaire’ and a small pencil with which to fill them in. Van felt at the holster on his belt to make sure no one had taken Charlotte while he slept. No one had. He sat up and scraped the crust from his eyes. The floor that he was laid on was surprisingly soft, like a firm pillow more than dirt. He looked around and saw Yukimi and Dallas were still sleeping. I’ll wake’em up after I find somewhere to take a piss, he thought, no sense in doing it now.
The village was silent, save for the quiet snoring that could be heard emanating from the various wooden structures around him. He could hardly believe that only a few hours ago it had been pulsating with frivolity.
He made his way to the trees that bordered the village and unzipped his trousers. As he stood there watering the plants, he couldn’t help but feel at one with nature. It’d been longer than he cared to remember since he’d been on a planet with so much natural beauty, perhaps never. He finished up and zipped up his fly. Then he turned around to see Fizgogg staring straight at him. “There’s a toilet, like, right there, dude,” he said, pointing to an open-air cubicle standing a few yards away.
“Oh, right,” said Van, “Sorry. I didn’t know that was there.”
“That’s ok,” replied Fizgogg, “You’re my guest, I should have said something, I guess. I wasn’t even sure if you guys did stuff like that. Dallas and the angry chick have, like, woken up and stuff and they wanna go to the plastic space guy house, like, right now. They asked me to come look for you.”
“Cool,” said Van, “I mean, thanks. Should we head back to them, where are they?”
“They’re outside my place, you go ahead, I still need to ‘pinch a loaf’, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure,” said Van awkwardly turning to leave.
He headed back to the makeshift campsite where Yukimi and a very disgruntled Dallas were waiting. Yukimi was doing some kind of stretching exercise while Dallas simply sat, half covered in his blanket, with a look of utter disdain for being awake so early. He looked up as Van approached them. The night had taken a hefty toll on him. His hood was up to shield his eyes from the low, orange Sun.
“You look like shit,” said Van with a satisfied smile, “don’t tell me your nanites can’t handle one little night of partying?”
“I only got ones that work on pathogens and the like, not stuff that gets me wasted. Also, keep your voice down, man. I’m in a fragile st-AARGH!” Yukimi had leaned over and injected him with something. He shot up like a rocket, grabbing the fresh puncture on his neck.
“What the Hell- Actually I feel great now, what did you do?”
Yukimi put the injection pen back in one of her many pockets, “It is a minor stimulant, and you’re welcome. Now, as soon as Chief Fizgogg returns, we can depart.”
“Wait,” said Van, “Chief Fizgogg?”
“Yes,” replied Yukimi, “While the two of you were indulging your evolutionary roots and vices, I was collecting data on this undocumented culture. They have an organic societal structure and, as it happens, Fizgogg is the equivalent of a chief to this village. His larger home is a sign of this elevated status.” She began rifling through her pockets, taking an inventory of her equipment and supplies. She had taken some physical samples, while the boys were spinning the villagers around like they were playing ‘rocket ships’ with a toddler. It seemed she didn’t even clock off when she was a guest of honour at a party.
Fizgogg came walking up the path towards them. “S’up dudes,” he said as he waddled over, “Sorry I took so long, that dump turned into, like, a series, y’know? Just wish there was something to do while I was in there.”
Van dug through his pocket and pulled out an old, hand-held view screen he’d been planning to trade. He tossed it to Fizgogg; “Here. It shows you videos, you can watch it when you’re ‘at shit’.” Fizgogg examined the device and a tear came to his eye.
“You are the greatest dude that ever lived. I should give you some stuff!” He said through tears of joy.
“It’s cool,” said Van, brushing it off, “we had a great time last night, plus you gave us food. I’d say we’re more than square.”
Fizgogg ran up and hugged Van’s legs. “You have changed my poops forever. You, dude, are the dude of dudes. I will sing songs of your kindness.”
Van stood speechless, watching the gnome that was silently, weeping into his thigh. It was getting creepy but he was enjoying the adulation too much to stop him.
Yukimi’s patience was wearing thin. She walked over and crouched down to Fizgogg’s eye line. He turned his head and met her gaze. She stared deeply into his eyes;
“Can we go now, please?”
Fizgogg hadn’t been exaggerating when he said the site was a long way from the village. It was high-noon by the time they arrived. The temperature had soared to a muggy 40 degrees Celsius. Van had even taken his armour off and was using the chest panel to clumsily fan himself. Dallas had stripped down to his denim jeans and vest, tying his hoodie around his waist. Yukimi, on the other hand, hadn’t so much as broken a sweat. Tolerance to warm climates was apparently part of her DNA.
They broke through the tree line. Ahead of them was a white tent, the size of a warehouse. It looked abandoned. The entrance was left open like a gaping wound, its inhabitants must had left in a hurry. They walked into the deserted marquis.
Dust covered every surface and nature had reclaimed what had once been a sterile environment. It was like walking into a forgotten memory. Yukimi went to the nearest workspace and tried to get the tablet screen to work, it was hopeless. The group ventured further, pushing through door flap after door flap until they found themselves in a forest of dying trees. The room seemed endless. The forest of trees had been starved of direct sunlight for so long that the leaves had all fallen to the ground.
Fizgogg stepped forward and approached a nearby tree. He knelt down and clasped a dead leaf in his hands. He raised it to his nose and sniffed at it. “Oh, dudes!” he exclaimed, “not cool”
“What?!” asked the others.
“Ahh, not cool, not cool, not cool.”
“WHAT!?”
“I got crap on my knees!”
“The trees,” pressed Yukimi, “tell us what the trees are.”
“Well,” said Fizgogg, looking confused, “They’re- dead… Can’t you, like, tell?”
“Oh, come on! There was no reason to put the word ’like’ into that sentence!”
Van was getting tired of this already; “Look,” he said, “I think what Yukimi wants to know is; what this plant was when it wasn’t dead.”
“Alive?” answered Fizgogg, still feeling very confused. Van covered his face with his palm and muttered obscenities under his breath. Dallas stepped forward;
“So,” he said cheerfully, “What type of trees are these?”
“They were ‘dumb-ass fruit’ trees,” replied Fizgogg, happy to understand the conversation again. “We call’em that because they make whoever eats the fruit, turn into a mindless dumb-ass that does whatever someone tells’em to do. They taste, like, real awesome though. Worth it at least once, y’know? Shame they’re gone, this was the only place they grew.”
Yukimi, Van and Dallas looked at one another. They had all figured it out at the same time.
The stereotype of the faceless, greedy corporation is worse today, than it is in your time. The only reason people put up with it is because it’s unavoidable. That wasn’t to say that any clandestine acts were beyond the realm of possibility, when it came to what a corporate entity might do. And now, the single largest distributor of beverages in the known universe had a fruit that not only tasted amazing, apparently, but also made whoever drank it into a willing slave. Van already knew the answer, but had to ask; “I’ll take it the files I got said that POP!!! Came here looking for new recipe ideas?” Yukimi silently nodded. “And when is distribution set to begin?”
“If they’re still on target; a month, maybe two,” she looked down as she said this. The implications of what this would lead to were devastating even to her.
They made their way back outside to the balmy sunlight. They decided to head back to the ship so Yukimi could send the information to Zeffross. Their only hope was that he could broadcast the information to enough galaxies before POP!!! could get their ’zombie-juice’ on the shelves. Fizgogg led them back to the Bessie and they departed. Yukimi sent off the information. Then, everything took a giant turn for the worse.