Tatum's War

The undescriptive corridors continued on while Tatum followed his amazon escort, allowing him to watch other species pass by. Normally, their side long glances wouldn’t have bothered him, but with his butt hanging out the back of his gown, he was a little self-conscious. Clearly he had been sent to a technologically superior culture and the best they could do was to still use opened gowns to clothe patients.

Unlike the mad rush of species running to wherever their assigned duties were during the attack, everyone now had a calm easy walk which was in stark contrast to MeerRhonda’s purposeful, military walk in front of him. Her strides were long, crisp, and defiantly not feminine. The other species that passed them offered respectful greetings to her, which were returned with a sharp nod of the head. Tatum on the other hand, received inquisitive glances, which he returned with a broad smile despite his semi-nakedness. If there was one thing he learned taking his little sister to the sappy supernatural love stories that were dominated with half dragons, vampires and werewolves; a smile appeared to disarm any suspicions that people might have. Though he had to admit, Dakota Fanning playing JJ, in Dragon Amour was one of the better supernatural love stories he’d seen. He always thought that being a dragon’s offspring was measurably better than a cold vampire. Way more cool, he thought to himself as he glanced around the corridor.

Large conduits traversed the ceiling and hummed slightly with whatever power passed through them. He reached up and slid his hand along the wall. It felt like metal, but had a warmer and less ridged structure to it. Lights were spaced every ten feet apart, each glowing with the same radiance of a noon day sun. No warmth came from them that he could tell, but it did make him feel good. Just like taking a walk in the sun.

“Doesn’t this station have elevators?” Tatum complained after walking for a considerable distance.

MeerRhonda ignored him and continued walking.

Annoyed, Tatum continued his species watching. Several species were not as startling as he had thought. Having been a product of watching science fiction movies, the strange characteristics were not that apparent. The coloring of their skin might be different, like MeerRhonda’s or Dr. Oullwyyng’s but they were all humanoidish in their looks: Two eyes, arms, legs, a nose, and five fingered hands. Some had slight variation, smaller noses, or larger eyes, or an extra digit on their hand like a dew claw, but overall, they appeared not much different from himself. He was kind of disappointed. He’d figured that aliens would be really different. But as his journey to his quarters continued, he began to realize that to reach a certain level of development, you’d have to have certain characteristics. He remembered being on a trip to the zoo one year, when he heard a preacher talking to some kids from his bible class. They had been standing in front of the elephants, who were slinging dirt around, and scratching their backs, while the preacher explained that if evolution were real, then why people didn’t have trunks.

Tatum wondered at the time why they didn’t have trunks, for it seemed like a very useful thing to have. But now, watching the different aliens walking by, he realized that a trunk couldn’t manipulate anything small. It couldn’t press a small button, zip a zipper or turn a screw driver. Tools. That’s why dolphins, considered one of the smarter creatures on Earth, didn’t have cities. They couldn’t use tools. So it made sense that even if they were super smart, or incredibly strong, if you didn’t have a way to manipulate tools of some kind to make complex instruments, than you didn’t get out into space.

MeerRhonda stepped through a hatch. Tatum had been jumping over the indentations in the flooring, and this time his jump took him towards the ceiling. Careening out of control, he slammed his back into the ceiling barely missing a conduit bolt with his head that appeared to be sticking out further than was safe. The ceiling impact forced a loud grunt out of him before he began a slower than he should, but faster than he could react fall towards the floor and landed with a thump. His gown opened up showing his naked butt, making a large group of alien crewmen and crewwomen, who were walking by, laugh and giggle while his face flushed with embarrassment. He rose slowly to his knees, covered his butt, smiled sarcastically at the gapping watchers, and tried carefully not to add any more strength than was needed to stand, fearing he might shoot off and hit the ceiling again. His eyes blazed with fury, while MeerRhonda appeared disgusted.

“You could have warned me about the change in gravity.” He snarled while regaining his feet.

MeerRhonda’s face softened a little at his remark and just a hint of respect popped into her eyes but vanished as quickly as a snowflake on a campfire flame. “Pay more attention.” She snarled back.

Tatum saw she hung slightly onto a rail that he hadn’t noticed before. He grabbed it. “Let me guess, we are getting further from the core?”

“Nice deduction. For a qweefer.” She turned and strode forward.

Qweefer?

The translator didn’t seem to translate it correctly, for he wasn’t sure why she would call him a baby cat.

Tatum felt his body lighten with each successive corridor hatch they passed through, until he was pulling himself along the rail. MeerRhonda skipped like the men on the moon had done and her face clearly showed that his lack of skill pretty much put him on the same level as the dirt on the floor. Her last hop placed her in front of a door. She waited impatiently until he pulled himself to her. It took him several attempts to get his feet underneath him, which elicited several heavy sighs from his escort and a yelp of surprise at the unexpected flash of his genitals. Once he got his balance, she punched a square blue button next to the door. The door swished open and she unceremoniously grabbed and pushed him in. He accelerated to the far wall where he slammed into it.

“This is your room. Don’t leave until someone comes to get you.” She ordered.

“As long as it isn’t you!” He screamed as the door closed. “Stupid furry bitch.” He cursed under his breath.

The door opened. MeerRhonda stood there. “Make sure I’m further away before you confess your pathetic Earther affections for me! You sicken me!” She turned and stormed off.

Too confused to be mad, Tatum tumbled about the room thinking of what he said. Several turns later he burst out laughing. “She thinks ‘bitch’ is a term of affection?! This translator is going to get me into so much trouble.”

Tired of the gown floating all over the place, Tatum ripped it off, and gently pushed himself over to the bed. He reached out for it, missed, and hit the wall. After several tries, he managed to sit on the bed, while hooking his legs underneath the bed frame to hold his position. They were cold to the touch with his naked skin. The room appeared like he imagined the inside of a can would be with square corners. Ugly metal greeted him with each wall he looked at. And actually, the only thing that stuck out from a wall was the bed he currently sat upon. He sighed softly. Tatum didn’t know what kind of situation Mr. Chance had sent him off too, but he knew deep down, in-between the doubt, loneliness, and complete and utter confusion, his interest was building. He’d always liked learning when he was little, and that bug gnawed at him in earnest. He couldn’t wait to learn everything he could.

“Computer.” He spoke to the open space of his quarters.

A panel folded back on the wall to his right revealing a circle with a red light in it, which eerily reminded him of H.A.L from 2001: A Space Odyssey.

“Can I help you, Tatum?” The low male computer voice said.

Tatum didn’t like the voice at all. Reminded him of a drill sergeant from the movies. “Can you increase the gravity enough for me to stand?” He wasn’t sure what was permitted, but if he’d learn anything so far, anything seemed possible.

“Working.” The computer said. “Gravity now at 1g of standard Earth normal.”

Tatum felt himself settle on the bed and nodded in satisfaction. He pushed himself up and slowly walked around. “Computer, are there any other pieces of furniture in this room?”

“Working.”

A chair and table slid out from the wall underneath the eye of the computer. Then a couch slid out from the wall behind him. Tatum placed his phone on the table, stepped over to the couch and pushed on the cushions. They were incredibly soft. He plopped down on them and stretched out. A smile grew on his face.

“Computer do I have any other clothes?” Tatum stood up noticing the cold.

“Working.”

A cubby opened on the right side of the door. Brightly colored clothing and uniforms greeted him, which turned his good mood sour.

“Really? Isn’t there anything else?” He complained.

The cubby closed, a whoosh sound issued from behind the cubby door, and when the door opened, an even more horrid selection of clothing greeted him.

Tatum stared in disbelief. “Come on, Computer. Don’t you have any styles from my home planet?”

“Working.”

The cubby closed again. After another minute or so of whooshing, the cubby opened and hideous clothes greeted him with polyester pants, turtle neck silk shirts with outlandish designs on them, and shoes of glossy white weirdness. Tatum cringed. He didn’t even know what era these clothes were from.

“NO!” Tatum groaned. “Did people even wear this on my planet? Something to date! Two thousand something, anything.”

“Working.” The computer voice chimed.

Several minutes later, Tatum was clad in blue jeans, a long sleeve shirt, tennis shoes and a pair of boxers that he had to explain in detail several times before the computer got it right. All his clothes fit perfectly. Better than anything he’d ever bought before.

“Good work, computer.”

The Computer didn’t respond.

Satisfied, he went and sat at the table. He looked at his phone and wasn’t surprised that the bars were blank and the no service icon blinked. This actually brought a smile to his face. “Well, computer. We’re going to have to do something about your voice, and make you mobile. Let’s see how advanced these people are.”

Several hours later, after no one came to get him, Tatum walked into the mess hall to get something to eat. His hand absently rubbed the bump on the top of his head. After dressing and finding the amenities in his quarters, he had walked out, started forward and forgot about the lesser gravity on the outside of his quarters until he crashed into the ceiling, and slowly drifted to the floor like a feather on the wind. Walking over to the food processor, which his computer had told him about after complaining about being hungry, he spoke to the wall with his order. He smiled to himself with some humor, and wondered why there weren’t any cooks. But then, automation must be at its highest capacity for a spacefaring race such as this. Though you’d think they would have been able to figure out a way to cook fresh meals. When the wall chimed and the little door opened, his cheese burger, onion rings, and a root beer waited patiently for him on a nice dish and a tray. The aroma left his mouth watering. He picked it up, walked to an empty table and sat. Several tables were looking at him, and he politely smiled back at them, before pulling out a rolled up flexible material from his back pocket and laying it out flat on the table. Taking a big bite of his burger, his taste buds exploded with flavors he’d never experienced before. The meat flavor surpassed the most exquisite steak he had ever eaten. The cheese and condiment flavors melted and combined in sensuous sensations that made him put the burger down before he fell out of his chair. Sweating and feeling uncomfortable about his sudden interest in a food, Tatum quickly took a drink of his root beer, which brought him back to reality. Its flavor was good, but the hint of the metallic taste couldn’t be hidden. Now he understood why they didn’t have cooks. He took several more gulps of soda before eating his hamburger at a much slower pace than he normally would have. In between slurps and bites, Tatum studied Flexi. Flexi was the name he had given his computer once he had downsized it from the console in his room. He wanted something even less visible, and Flexi had told him that he could make a synthetic skin graft which would fit on his arm. That would be ready in an hour. He pushed a few buttons, while trying to keep ketchup from dropping on it.

“Flexi, could you give me a playback of the recent attack?” Tatum wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“Roger.” The new female voice acknowledged.

Tatum had listened to hundreds of voices before settling on this one. It was from an obscure dialect from a race that had long been thought extinct. According to Flexi, the female voice the recording had come from was the last known recording of the race. Tatum didn’t quite understand how they had a recording, but he only knew it reminded him of Alexa.

“Ready.” Flexi announced.

“3D graphic interface please.” Tatum leaned back in his chair.

A few inches above the table, Flexi projected open space before the space station materialized to his right. The station from this angle made for an impressive structure. Like a big spoked bicycle tire and rim floating in space; the space station’s outer ring appeared fixed and the spokes leading back to the center hub, which appeared to be the only rotating structure, just hung in the blackness of the universe. Tatum knew that exploring the station would take time, but it was something he was looking forward to. Further to the left of the station, ships began to blink into existence and travel towards the outer ring of the station. As Tatum watched, more ships appear, and as the first ships began to reach the station, he studied the scene with little reaction. The details of the each ship were more astounding than any console game he had played. He could actually see the little puffs of gas used to maneuver the ship around.

“Flexi, can you put green dots on any life forms that were detected?” Tatum leaned forward.

“Roger.”

Greenlights lit up the space station. Some were moving around frantically trying to get places and other were stationary. As he suspected, there were no green lights on either the little sphere ships or the cigar shaped ships that had appeared further back, which had launched the spheres. The square ship that he had eventually destroyed later in the battle, had only intermittent green lights on it.

“Flexi, does the Control Square have life signs on it or not?” Tatum wiped ketchup from the corner of his mouth.

“Control Square outside sensor range to know for certain.” Flexi responded.

A tightness crept into his belly. At the moment of the attack, he didn’t have time to think if the small ships had people or whatever on them, and once the simulation started and he saw they didn’t, he had felt much better. But the Control Square was different. It wasn’t clear if he had killed anyone with his attack or not. He wasn’t sure what to think right now, since the information was ambiguous, but it didn’t fill him with excitement or anything. If anything, he felt indifferent about it. Tatum finished his hamburger, pushed aside his plate and sipped on his drink. Noticing he had finished his root beer, he picked up his plate, deposited it next to the food prep door, and ordered another. He grabbed his drink and sat back down. The fight unfolded in front of him, even to the point he could tell which turret he had ended up in. His random chaotic laser fire shooting into space indiscriminately, stood out like a sore thumb compared to the precise firing of the other turrets. His face heated up just a bit from his embarrassment. He drank from his drink to further hide his embarrassment, until he watched himself get better with the lasers. Shrugging his shoulders at his poor performance, his turret suddenly began firing precisely at the targets. He understood that at this point he had put laser into automatic. He continued to watch the flow of the battle.

The unmanned spheres were streaming in continuously, like flies covering a carcass. Suddenly, five fiery red balls streamed forth from under his turret. Like gumballs being shot from a gun, they streaked forward leaving tendrils of light behind. From this vantage, the cigar ships continuously fired at the plasma balls and with each successful hit, the plasma balls absorbed the laser fire, which diminished their size until two of the five fizzled out. The other three continued forward until the cigar ships stopped firing at them when the last plasma ball passed their positions. The plasma balls homed in on the square ship without further interference. Dots began to shoot away from the square ship.

“Flexi, identify those ships?” Tatum moved his hand, making the image grow.

“Harken type two escape pods.” Flexi announced.

Tatum let out a breath. He’d hoped that’s what they were, relieving his consciousness of the burden about having intentionally killed anyone. His shoulders relaxed noticeably.

The plasma balls rammed into the square ship, followed by a quick explosion that was quickly consumed by the void. Debris tumbled away reflecting starlight. Beginning its long journey toward oblivion.

Tatum leaned back. “Flexi, what kind of weird plasma ball did I use to destroy the square ship?”

“Class three helium fusion plasma spheres. 1.2 exajoules of energy released on target.” Flexi reported.

“Exajoules? Can you elaborate on that?” Tatum hadn’t heard that term before.

“120.0 Teraton TNT in Earth terms.” Flexi explained. “.006 solar output of a class 1 star.”

Tatum’s eyes widened.

“Yes, you used one of the most destructive weapons we have to destroy a simple ship.” A voice scoffed behind him.

Tatum turned to face an insectoid creature. Tatum flinched back, as the large multi-faceted eyes stared at him. The small mouth pincers clicked together and he thought they moved up slightly giving them a sneer.

Recovering from his moment of astonishment, Tatum shrugged. “Saved the station. Didn’t see anyone else coming up with a solution.”

“That is Samurai when you address me, Cadet. Samurai Elysian! The fleet was in the Streem. You should have just waited it out.” The insectoid’s eyes brightened.

Tatum’s face showed what he thought of that statement. Samurai Elysian grabbed Tatum’s shirt and pulled him up out of his seat with surprising strength. That was when he noticed that the Elysian had three fingers and a thumb, along with two legs and no abdomen, thorax or antenna.

Guess the science fiction guys got that wrong too.

“Problem?” Commodore Greystone approached them.

Samurai Elysian dropped Tatum and snapped to attention. “No, Commodore. Just instructing the new cadet in proper rank protocol.”

Commodore Greystone nodded, Samurai Elysian stood at ease. “There are certain protocols on this station, Tatum. Addressing superiors is one of them. You need to learn the insignias so you know whom you are talking to.”

Tatum nodded, but he knew he wouldn’t bother. “I’m just here as guest. The sooner someone explains to me why Mr. Chance sent me here, I can get back to getting ready for Germany. Not that this hasn’t been a cool field trip, which no one is going to believe, but it’s just a side trip. An awesome side trip, but side trip none the less.”

Commodore Greystone smiled. “You are not a guest here. You are a part of this crew, now. Random clearly thought you could help us in our upcoming operation, so he sent you to us. And after reading the file, this is your Germany trip.”

Tatum’s eyes widened. “What do you mean this is my Germany trip? I’m supposed to be going to a college.”

Commodore Greystone nodded. “Welcome to it. Space station Hope is your college.”

Tatum eyed him suspiciously. “If that is true, then what operation could I possibly help you with? I know nothing about what is going on or you people or those people. I just did what I needed to do to stay alive. Nothing noteworthy of that?”

“Agreed.” Samurai Elysian concurred.

“But I did do more than this guy.” Tatum chimed in.

Samurai Elysian’s eyes brightened in color again as he stepped forward. Tatum didn’t move or flinch. He knew he wouldn’t do anything while the Commodore was there. But he would need to watch his back when the Commodore left.

“That kind of talk will get you in trouble. No matter how true the statement might be.” Commodore Greystone warned him.

Samurai Elysian flinched at the statement but said nothing.

“But that is the kind of thinking we will need. As for the operation, that will come in time. First I need you to report back to your quarters, familiarize yourself with the station and then I’ll send for you. Clear?”

“Clear.” Tatum said.

“Clear what?”

“Clear, Commodore.”

Commodore Greystone nodded. “Carry on.”

Samurai Elysian saluted and Tatum waved. Once he was gone, Tatum expected Elysian to say something, but he didn’t. He turned and left. Relieved, Tatum ordered some snacks and headed back to his quarters to sleep. He’d already familiarized himself with the station and he planned to go exploring after his nap.