Dorothy had not been pleased with her birthday gift. She had asked for The Wonderful Wizard of Oz book, but apparently her parents had no clue it was actually a book and not only a musical movie, and had gotten her a book based off of the movie purely because it’s main character shared her name.
Dorothy tossed the book against a chair stationed at the corner of her room, flopping down in her bed and looking gloomily up at the ceiling. This had been, by far, the worst birthday ever, and to her it was supposed to be special; today she turned 21. But mother just had to burn the cake, and father just had to be as cheap as to get only one gift; a crappy hand-me-down that wasn’t even what she wanted. And the worst by far, it was raining. A loud, strong thunder and lightning storm was roaring outside her bedroom window, pounding against the glass like bullets, drowning out the moan that Dorothy made.
She rolled over on her bed, hugging the pillow close to her chest as she glanced at the clock. It read 10:23 PM. The end to a horrible day. She closed her eyes and wished the storm would carry her off to Oz. While she might be threatened by Margaret Hamilton there, at least it was far, far away from her parents, who only gave a damn to keep her fed and happy. The cheapskates.
Dorothy was woken up by even fiercer rain against her bedroom window. It rattled the glass and shook the shutters with its terrible wind. She sat up in bed and peered at the glowing red numbers of her clock. 4:56. She had to go to work in just over an hour and a half.
Fed up and unable to go to sleep, she got out of bed, grabbing her book and throwing it on the floor, and pulled her chair over to look at the rain. Only it wasn’t raining. The night was perfectly calm, all but for the continuous roaring and the wind that was pushing against her window. Where the roar was coming from Dorothy could not say, though when she finally opened her window it came in more clearly and even louder and sounded more mechanical then anything.
Intrigued she put on her slippers and ran across the floor. Dorothy knew she wouldn’t wake her parents because even at their age they were still almost deaf, otherwise they would have been up by now as a result of the roaring. She ran across the kitchen and down the hall, then out the front door and into the early morning, looking around between the pine trees that littered their property in the middle of almost nowhere. Then she spotted it; a faint, glowing yellow light through two trees off to the right, where the wind was coming from. Dorothy ran up to it, feet squishing on the moist pine needles and the bottom of her slippers collecting dirt. The roaring was getting louder and louder and the wind stronger and harsher and soon Dorothy had her hands clapped over her ears, pushing her way against the wind.
Finally she broke through the trees and side-stepped to avoid the wind. The sight before her was stunning. It was a spaceship. Its main body was a shiny silver that caught the light of the morning sun, its wings and single fin along it’s back where a dirty white. It looked more like a bird then anything, and was huge, nearly the size of her house. Slowly Dorothy crept closer, staying to the tree line as she worked her way around the craft. The huge front window had been closed, and it didn’t appear that anyone was there.
“Hello?” Dorothy called out, though her voice was quickly drowned out by the roaring. “Hello?” She repeated, even louder, though she got no response, as she walked up to the ship. There was a panel on the side that had been ripped off, revealing live buzzing wires and computer screens plus oil smeared everywhere.
“Do you mind?” A voice from below all but screamed over the noise. “You’re blocking my light.”
Dorothy let out a little scream and leapt back. Lying on his back under the belly of the ship was a young man of roughly her age. He was tall with a round face and stubby nose. His hair was a dark brown with blonde highlights, and he was wearing a white and blue jumpsuit. He looked up at her. He was also wearing goggles, tinted silver against the light coming from the silver ship’s belly. “Who the hell are you?” He asked in a voice fit more to sing techno pop then anything.
“I’m-“ Dorothy stopped, glared at the awkwardly handsome man and shot back; “Who are you?”
“What?”
“WHO ARE YOU?”
“WHAT? Y’know what-…just hang on.” He shouted back, sliding out from the under belly and fiddling with the open panel Dorothy had seen. Abruptly the noise and the wind stopped and the man looked back at Dorothy, smiling, and removed two orange ear plugs from his ears.
“Repeat that, please? The engine gets a little loud when you’ve got its main turbines on a different fuel.” The man said with a little shrug, removing the goggles and squinting against the on-coming sun. He had brilliant light blue eyes tinged with a little gray. “Who are you?”
Dorothy blinked. “I’m…Dorothy.” She said blankly. “Who are you?”
“Zachary. But you can call me Zack.” The man replied, head tilted to the side. “What are you doing all the way out here?” Zack inquired.
“Uh…my parents’ log cabin is just over there…Is that your spaceship?”
Zack looked behind him at the huge silver spaceship. “Yeah…just got it fixed too. Those damn station workers at Ozine filled her up with the wrong fuel and I just made it down here before she just kinda went ka-poot.” He said sadly, flapping his arms in a hopeless sort of way.
“And you crash-landed…in our woods?” Dorothy inquired, watching Zachary as he wiped off a greasy rag he produced from his back pocket.
“I don’t see your name on it.” Zack replied, gazing around at the woods. “Anyway I’ll be done in a second then I’ll be gone.” A gangplank lowered from the ship’s side and a large door opened up suddenly. Just as Zack was about to go up said gangplank however, Dorothy stopped him by speaking up.
“Where are you going?”
Zack stopped, turned around and faced her. “Ozine.” He said simply, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “I don’t take hitchhikers with me, Dorothy.” He added after an afterthought, to which Dorothy gave him an almost disapproving frown.
“I’m not a hitchhiker!” She protested, stomping her foot on the ground. “And who said I wanted to go with you to…wherever you’re going anyway?”
Zack considered this with a quick nod of his head and a small “hm.”
“But just for the record…” began Dorothy slowly, “where’s Ozine?”
Zack frowned. “It’s just off of the Veneficus Star System.” He explained. To Dorothy’s puzzled look, he added; “Y’know, in the Vermis Galaxy?”
Dorothy shook her head. “No, I don’t know.” Zack gave an exasperated sigh and rubbed his forehead.
“What planet is this?” He asked bluntly.
“Earth.”
“Have you ever left Earth, Dorothy?”
Dorothy was surprised by how rude and blunt his last words had been, and how stupid she suddenly felt. “Well-…no, not really.” In truth, she had never even left the state, much less the world. Zack nodded understandingly.
“I see.” He said firmly, turning away again.
Feeling a bit repressed, Dorothy blurted out; “What are you supposed to be, Fly Boy?” She could have sworn Zachary choked on his own spit as he stopped.
“Fly Boy?” He parroted with a laugh. “Fly Boy? My god, I’ve heard better insults from an Ozian Dirt Worm!” He spat. “I’m not ‘supposed’ to be anything. I’m an exterminator.”
Dorothy had to hold in her laughter. Here she had thought this Zachary character was a great space warrior or captain of an entire space fleet or alien monster here to claim lives disguised as a human, and he was an exterminator. Yes, the title was one that had a dangerous sounding edge to it, but in reality…”Exterminator of what, exactly?” Dorothy wondered, a hint of sarcasm in her voice now.
“Ozian Dirt
“Just…wondering. That’s all.”
“What are you supposed to be?” Zachary asked back. When he received no answer, he nodded again. “Okay. Now that we’ve got that settled, see you around Dorothy.”
Dorothy watched him with longing as he descended up the gangplank into the ship. Just before he was about to pull the gangplank up, however, Dorothy found herself speaking before thinking again; “Can I come with you?”
Zack poked his head out the archway. “Can you what?”
“Can I come with you? I mean, my parents won’t give a damn if I take off for a while and this place is boring and I’ve got nothing here anyway an-“
“You want to come with me? As in want me to drop you off in Ozine, or want to come with me?”
Dorothy considered the two options carefully. If she were left in Ozine, she probably wouldn’t last a day in the alien terrain of what sounded like a big city. But if she took the offer of going with Zachary, she got a free guide and perhaps an adventure, if these worms proved to be as dangerous as they sounded. “Come with you.” Dorothy finally deduced.
“You do know that if you come with me, there’s a good chance you’ll die a horrible, slow, painful death when you come with me on my next gig, right?” Zachary told Dorothy, a skeptical look on his face.
“I do now.”
Zack let out another long sigh. “Oh, alright. I need a new partner until
Dorothy stopped and turned around to face Zachary. “To grab a few things.” She said. Zachary shook his head.
“Nah,” he told her. “I’ve got everything here. C’mon.”
The ship was huge. It was, despite Dorothy’s earlier thoughts, bigger then her parents’ house, with a large control panel that held all sorts of lights and buttons and a few screens that were blinking at random, with two cushiony chairs set in front of the control panel.
The interior of the ship was a dull white, like the outside. The room Dorothy was in currently, the main room, had the control panel, a table built into the wall where another man was seated, a few doorways off to one side, and what looked like a mini bar.
“Home sweet home.” Zachary announced, closing the door behind Dorothy along with the gangplank. “Dorothy, welcome to the Tractus. We’ve got our breakfast bar over there,” he motioned to the mini bar, “the controls are just over there, don’t touch them though, and there’s a hallway down that door,” he pointed to the far right-hand door, “that leads to all the bedrooms. We’ll have an extra one for you by the morning. The bathrooms and showers are at the end of that hall. The lounge and game room is in the door next to it, the library is behind the door next to that one, and so on.” He finished, waving his hands airily.
Dorothy nodded, gazing around the large room. “Who’s he?” She asked, pointing to the man who was sitting at the table. He appeared to be working on something that looked like a large computer chip.
“Oh, that’s just Alan.” Zachary explained, waltzing over to the man and patting him on the back. “How’s it going, Al?”
The man looked up at Zachary. He was wearing magnifying goggles that made his brown eyes seem huge and bug-like. He also had a long, pointy nose and a bit of stubble on his chin from where he hadn’t shaved in probably a few good days. His skin was a light pale, as if he didn’t see the sun much and he had thick black hair that he had cut short and spiked so it stuck out at every single angle awkwardly. Dorothy could only assume he kept his hair that way to keep it out of his face as he worked.
Alan, as Zachary had called him, looked from Zachary to Dorothy, lips pursed. “Who’s your girlfriend?” He finally asked, looking back down to his work aimlessly as he grabbed a screwdriver and began tinkering with the chip.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Zachary began roughly. “Her name’s Dorothy and she’s gunna fill in for Quincy for the mo’.”
Alan looked up again, a skeptical look on his face. “I don’t know Zack, an Earth girl? They don’t get off their planet much, do they?”
”Hey!” Dorothy, even though she hardly knew this Alan, punched him on the arm.
“No offense…” Alan added, rubbing his arm. “But what would she know about Ozian Dirt Worms?”
Zack raised an eyebrow at his friend. “What do you know about Ozian Dirt Worms?”
Alan considered this comeback. “Hm, so you got me there.” He admitted. “But what happens when Quincy comes back?”
Zachary looked at Dorothy. “She’ll just have to become a regular member.” He said. “C’mon, help me start up the ship.” With that said, he stalked off to one of the chairs in front of the control panel and sat down in it, back turned to them both.
Almost as if he were trying to ignore Dorothy, Alan got up and followed suit. “So you got all that nasty junk out of her system then?” He asked, referring to the ship as he sat down in the other chair. Zachary punched in a few numbers and pulled a lever and the ship whirled to life, engines roaring, though now muffled.
“Pretty much all of it, yes, but we’ll have to stop to re-fuel half-way back to Ozine.” Zachary said. “Uh, Dorothy, better strap in,” he added, glancing back at the woman as he buckled his own seatbelt; a strap that went over each shoulder and buckled in to the armrests. Dorothy looked around for anything to “strap in” to, but found nothing, so sat down in the chair Alan had just been sitting in and held on for dear life. The ship’s engines roared again, dangerously deafening, and Dorothy wondered if both Zachary and Alan constantly worn earplugs. The ship shuddered, Dorothy digging her nails into the back of the leather seat. The ship shuddered away, more roughly, and then a suddenly jerk. Dorothy almost lost her grip and slammed against the table. The engines roared louder and then gave another strong jerk, sending Dorothy half-way across the room, landing on the cold floor sprawled-eagle. Then the entire room was slanted at an upward angle, and she slid across the floor and hit the wall. To top it all off, there was more rattling, and then final jerks, making Dorothy smack her head on the wall. The engines suddenly got a lot quieter, and she blinked away the pain and the bruise forming on the back of her skull. Everything seemed to have stopped.
Zack gave a little laugh and unbuckled himself, hopping out of his seat and handing the controls over to Alan.
“Hey- whoops!” He scurried over and helped Dorothy off of the floor. “Had a spill?”
Dorothy glared at him. “There was no place for me to ‘strap in’.” She spat bitterly. Zack frowned.
“Sure there are.” He replied. “You were sitting on the seatbelt.” Dorothy could think of nothing witty to reply to that, and so remained silent, a stubborn look plastered across her face. Zack let a beat pass, then said; “We’re in space, Dorothy, made it off of Earth.”
Dorothy blinked, suddenly filled with excitement.
“Really?” She ran over to the large window that was open. There in all it’s glory was the vast outreaches of space and the small pinpoints of light that were stars, that they either passed still far away from them, or soared on to. She recognized the moon as they passed it, then Mars and a few other planets she couldn’t name at the moment. “Wow…” was all she could think of saying. People dreamed about this sort of stuff! Made movies about people dreaming about this sort of stuff! But never in a million years, whether in reality or green screen, did Dorothy ever think she would actually be in space! And all because she had been friendly to the strange man in the jumpsuit! “Why aren’t we…y’know…floating?”
Zack smiled.
“Advanced gravity controls. I find it easier to work with my feet on the ground. But,” he added, “The lounge is pretty big. Sometimes we use that for a bit of fun.”
“Big mess to clean up afterwards!” Alan added from his place at the controls.
Dorothy gave Zack a pleading look. “Please, Zack? Please, please, please?”
Zack heaved a sigh. “I dunno…” He began slowly. At the puppy dog eyes Dorothy was giving him, he finally gave in. “Oh, fine, c’mon!”
The lounge was surprisingly human and normal to Dorothy. She had expected thousands of alien devices intended for fun, strange symbols she couldn’t read and odd music in other languages playing. But it was completely and utterly normal. Plain White T’s was playing over the speakers softly; there was a pool table near the back of the room, and in front of it were a fluffy sofa and large-screen TV. On the coffee table were different magazines, from video games to space ships. Bleeping pressed up against the wall was a pinball machine and someone had left a game of checker’s unfinished, among other various items of amusement. The walls were, unlike the room Dorothy had just come out of, a light baby’s blue, and on one wall you could hardly see said wall it was so covered with posters and magazine clippings and sticky notes. The other walls had footprints all over them. There were even some on the ceiling.
“Our source of entertainment.” Zack explained as he walked over to a laptop that Dorothy hadn’t noticed before.
“It’s so…” Dorothy began slowly.
“What? Normal? Human? Yeah…they copied us, the bastards. Ozine got its start about a thousand years before Earth, and a few little Ozians traveled over and visited the humans, spilling brilliant ideas for computers, cars, you name it. Next thousand years, boing! They’re nearly on top of us when it comes to tech.” Zack said with a bitter tone in his voice, typing out a password. He typed so fast he punched in the password in clear view and Dorothy still couldn’t guess what it could have been.
“What happened to the Ozians, then?” She wondered, perched on the edge of the couch.
“Them? Bah. They stayed on Earth, mated with the humans I suppose, and kept giving out our information until the day they died.”
“So there’s someone out there who’s part-Ozian?” wondered Dorothy. The idea thrilled her that some of her friend’s great-grandparents could have been aliens.
“Doubt it.” Zack replied bluntly. “The genes have probably all died out because of years of those half-Ozians hooking up with humans. The bloodline’s almost completely dead, if not gone.” He finished. “Okay, hang on…” He brought up what looked like a notepad document, typed in a series of numbers, and closed it. The room beeped suddenly, and Zachary stepped away from the computer. He grinned at Dorothy, arms crossed against his chest, and to Dorothy’s surprise floated a good few feet from the ground.
“You turned off the gravity!” She exclaimed.
“Well, duh.”
“How come I’m-“
“You are, Dorothy.”
Dorothy looked down. She hadn’t even realized she had left the ground, and now she was slowly floating away from it, heading higher and higher toward the ceiling. The magazines had begun to float around; pages sprawled out like paper bugs. The checkers were also floating around, scattered everywhere. The pool table, pool balls, TV, couch, pinball machine and other heavy machinery did not fly, however, and Dorothy looked at Zachary with a curious stare.
“They’re bolted down.” Zachary pointed out as they both hit the ceiling, Zachary pushing away and soaring down and across the room, arms spread eagle. “And the pool table’s got a magnet under the surface. There are magnets in the balls too. They both turn on when the gravity is turned off. C’mon, what are you scared of? Get off the ceiling!” He said, grabbing Dorothy’s hand and pulling her away. In all honesty Dorothy was still having trouble figuring out up from down and nearly went spinning across the room had she still not had a grip on Zack’s hand.
“Ouch, Dorothy, let go!” Zack exclaimed, pulling his hand away and rubbing his shoulder. “Enough force to pull a guy’s arm off. Trouble finding your feet?”
Dorothy nodded, colliding with the wall just above the TV.
“It’s like swimming.” Zack explained, doing the backstroke across the room and stopping short of the other wall, pushing against it with his feet and pushing away some checkers that had gotten in front of him, flying toward the speaker. He scrunched up his nose as music blared in his ears and he made a frantic attempt to move away. Dorothy felt godly hovering above the ground, free as a bird, able to go anywhere in the room that she pleased, though it was a bit un-nerving, and she found she was confused and a bit lightheaded after a few minutes. Zack spotted the nauseous look on Dorothy’s face and flew over. “You okay? Want down?” He wondered. Dorothy pushed away from the wall she had just hit, again.
“Y-yeah…it takes a little getting used to, huh?”
Zachary grinned brightly. “Yeah, but don’t worry, it doesn’t take that long.” He said, floating over to the computer desk. He grabbed the desk and pulled himself down, though the lower half of his body, mainly his legs, continued to stay in the air. It looked a bit painful to Dorothy. But nonetheless Zack brought up the notepad-looking document and began typing in numbers. Suddenly Dorothy realized it would be quite painful if she were to fall from this height, pressed up against the ceiling, and franticly tried to paddle down to the couch. When she was half-way there Zack floated over. “What’re you doing? The room’s gunna be-“ Suddenly they both fell. Luckily Dorothy landed on the fluffy sofa. However, Zachary wasn’t so lucky, and fell down onto the floor with a grunt. To make matters worse, the checker board landed on his head, followed by the checker pieces and a magazine. He grunted again, though didn’t move, and looked up at Dorothy with a pathetic look plastered on his face, like a dog that had just been swatted with a newspaper.
“I blame you.” He said simply, sitting up and letting the mess fall off his bruised noggin and onto the ground.
“Me?” Dorothy scoffed, sitting up with her arms crossed against her chest. “I didn’t do a single thing!”
“Sure you did!” Zack said putting the board back on the coffee table, sounding winded from his fall. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be up front.”
“That’s sex discrimination!” Dorothy exclaimed, whacking Zack’s arm.
“Nope, I would’ve said the same thing if you were a dude.” Zachary replied smartly with a cheesy grin on his face that really made Dorothy want to kick him in the nuts for being such a smart-ass. Zack stood up and tossed a few of the fallen magazines back onto the coffee table. Just then, the door opened and Alan poked his head in.
“I’ve got her on autopilot.” He explained to Zack’s puzzled expression. “The Tractus is putting along just fine. A bit sluggish, but that’s because of the fuel. We should be in Ozine by tomorrow, Ozian-time.” Alan told Zack before ducking out of the room. Zack glanced over at Dorothy.
“Well, there’s some good news. At least I’m not a complete failure when it comes to mechanics.” He sighed, pulling back his sleeve and peering at a watch on his hand. “It’s nearly six in the morning and I’m tired. I was flying the ship all night last night because the autopilot screwed up on us again. I’m going to bed.” Zachary informed Dorothy, turning to leave the room.
“What am I supposed to do?” Dorothy asked bluntly. Zachary paused, hand on the doorknob.
“I don’t know…go talk to Alan, see if you can help him out. He’s plenty friendly.” Zack said, going through the door and closing it behind him.
When Dorothy followed Zachary through the same door, she discovered he had gone through another door, the one he had told her earlier led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. It was as if he had abandoned her, and she cast a glance around the control room warily. They were still in space, with stars forever faraway flying past the windows, closer stars identified as planets hurtling past. The only sound in the room except for the beeps and blips of the controls was the sound of metal against metal, the sound of clothes shifting against the floor, and a voice talking to himself. Dorothy recognized it as the voice of Alan, the man Zachary had introduced her to earlier. He was lying on the floor, half of him concealed under the control panel, with wires dangling down around his face.
“Hm…13-26, adjust the control of planetary gravitation, compensate it with our own weight gain…” he was muttering to himself, screwdriver in hand and a tool belt lying on the floor, although it was filled with a mess of tools Dorothy had never even seen before. She walked over slowly, lest she disturb the jittery man, and sat down on the floor next to him.
“Hello.”
“GAH!” Alan screamed and jumped, slamming his goggle-clad head on the panel above him. He winced and pulled out, sitting up. “What the hell are you doing?!” He demanded, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead.
Dorothy smiled despite the situation. “Scared easily?” She mused. Alan swallowed, stopped rubbing his forehead, and glanced down at the tool belt.
“Hmph. Maybe.” He said firmly, grabbing something that remotely resembled a hand-saw, except that when Alan flicked a switch on the handle, the blade grew to be a bright blue. Dorothy determined this must have been some sort of fusing tool.
“Oh c’mon, you jumped three feet.” She said, poking Alan’s shoulder as he began welding something together, sparks falling around his face.
“Not even in this tight space.” He said from below the panel, turning off the welding saw. “Hand me the screwdriver…no, the blue one, no, the other blue one.”
Having found the correct screwdriver, Dorothy handed it over. In exchange she got the old screwdriver Alan had just been using back. Looking down at the tool and then the tool belt, Dorothy shrugged and stuffed it in the nearest pocket.
“But yes…maybe you did frighten me.” Alan considered, rubbing his chin. “I’m afraid of several things, you know.” He finished.
“Oh really? Like what?” wondered Dorothy, chin propped up on her hand, and sitting criss-cross. Alan merely shrugged a gesture that was perhaps the only thing he could do in the tight space under the control panel, and sighed.
“Well, heights for one.” He began, taking a deep breath and continuing to weld. Dorothy peered under the console as best she could without getting hit in the face with sparks. He was welding the large computer chip he was tinkering with earlier. “And tight spaces.”
Dorothy blinked. “Well then why are you in there?”
Alan shuddered, pausing in his welding and connecting a few wires. “Because then I’d lose my job. It’s not by choice, mind you. I just hide fear well. And then there are needles.” He shuddered again. “Just the feeling, the image of that tiny little thing pricking your skin, going under it and injecting some foreign liquid into your veins, or removing it. Ooooh! It’s enough to make your hair fall out…”
Dorothy shrugged, standing up and sitting in the co-captain’s chair in front of Alan. “Those are reasonable fears.” She said to Alan. “And I think needles creep everyone out.”
“Oh but wait! There’s more!” Alan exclaimed. “What about Ozian Dirt
Dorothy had thought, when Zachary had first mentioned Dirt Worms that they were a small pesticide problem that a few bug bombs could take care of, but apparently she thought wrong, according to the emotion in Alan’s words. “How big are they?” She inquired, head tilted to the side.
“Big as houses! Well…maybe a little shorter, but they’re huge! Three times
“Oh…sounds bad. And that’s what I’ve signed myself up for, huh?” Dorothy wondered, a bit frightened and wondering in her mind if it weren’t too late to ask Zachary to take her home. Wait…home? How could she think such a thing! Home was where she worked six to nine every day sorting papers! Home was where her parents didn’t have a single tasteful cell in their dried out bodies! Home was where all her friends moved away, got married, and only sent her Christmas cards! Home was boring!
Alan snapped Dorothy out of her mental rant by continuing on with his list of fears; “And loud noises. I don’t like sudden things. They frighten me.” He whimpered, finishing his work and pulling out from under the control panel, removing his goggles with greasy hands. “Fire’s pretty deadly too, and scary. OH! And greasy hair.” He rubbed his head.
“Hair?” Dorothy echoed with disbelief.
“No, greasy hair.” Alan corrected. “It’s just…ofh, greasy! You never know what sorts of things might be living in greasy hair.”
“Anything else?”
“Cats. Earth cats. They shed too much.”
“You’re an interesting man, Alan.” Dorothy sighed, shaking her head. “What were you doing, anyway?”
Alan gave a sheepish grin. “Don’t tell Zachary,” he began. “But I just installed the autopilot now.”
Dorothy looked a bit shocked. “You mean earlier…when you came in…?”
“We were floating freely.”
There was an awkward pause between the two as Alan gathered up his tools. Finally a thought occurred to Dorothy; who was this mysterious
“Hey, who’s
“He’s Zachary’s partner.” Alan said simply. “Bi-curious, too, can’t decide if he likes guys or girls. Bless him.”
“And he’s not here because…?”
“His over vexed mind kinda went ka-poot and he needed some time on Ozine to rest. It’s tough determining one’s sexuality. Not that I would know, mind you. Just be thankful I’m not homophobic.”
Alan predicted the rest of the day (the day being judged by the time, as there were no nights or days in space) would be amazingly dull and incredibly boring, and suggested Dorothy catch a couple of winks and go to bed early, after all they would be arriving in Ozine pretty early tomorrow, and Alan had divulged that Zachary not only had to retrieve Quincy, but had a meeting with the President of Ozine as well.
Since the only bedroom they had on the ship they used to pile up dirty laundry (Dorothy feared her task on the ship would soon become maid, but Alan explained that was Quincy’s job) and they had no time to clean it out and wash the sheets, Alan had given up the comforter from his bunk to let Dorothy use and she slept on the couch in the game room. Alan said Zachary had gone to bed pretty early and to extinguish any thoughts of a goodnight kiss. Dorothy thought Alan was joking. With
Dorothy was awoken after only a few hours of sleep; it seemed, by someone with bony fingers prodding her cheek.
“Yo,” an unfamiliar voice (was that a hint of an Australian accent, or was it just
Dorothy opened her eyes. A man was towering above her, clasping two different CD cases. He was skinny, and extremely tall; a good three or four heads taller then herself. His hair was set in almost the same style of Alan’s, except it was a lot shorter and purposely spiked just for looks, and was a bright, fluorescent red; obviously dyed. It hurt her eyes to look at his hair. His face was longer then Zachary’s but rounder then Alan’s, with a little stubble just on the edge of his Bruce Campbell-worthy chin. The hair there, Dorothy noticed, was the same bright fiery shade of red, and she wondered now if the color was natural. The thing that caught Dorothy’s attention most about the man, though, was his bright green eyes. The shade of green was hard to determine, somewhere between light and dark green, and stood out against his pale complexion and his unruly hair, giving the impression that said eyes glowed.
“Hey doll, stop examining the merchandise and pick a band. Good
“Erm…Matchbox Twenty. Who are you?” Dorothy asked blankly, sitting up and rubbing her sore eyes. The man moved across the room and put the CD into the computer drive, clicking a few buttons before the music began to play.
“
“How’d you guess?”
“I’m psychic.”
“Get dressed into what?” Dorothy wondered, cocking an eyebrow at the man.
“Your uniform.”
Based on Dorothy’s knowledge of the ship so far, and what Zachary had told her, the bathroom and bedrooms were supposed to be down this door…she opened the door. There was a hallway with three doors on either side, one for each bathroom Dorothy assumed, and a room at the end that had bunk beds lining the walls like it would in a submarine, except a bit bigger. It was surprisingly spacious in the hallway, except the room with the beds, and Dorothy peered into the room. Alan was in there, standing in front of his bed, wearing a pair of blue and white jumpsuit pants and shirtless. He glanced over at Dorothy.
“Oh, um, sorry, I’ll just wait outside.” Dorothy muttered, backing out. Alan beckoned her in.
“Get used to it.” He said, leaning over and going through a drawer built into the wall in his bunk. It appeared he slept on the bottom bunk. “Your bed is right above mine. Zachary has no respect for gender-wise privacy whatsoever. He says to get over it.” Alan explained, producing from within the drawer a white T-shirt and pulling it on over his head. “The only request I have is that when you step on my bed to get to yours, your shoes either be cleaned, or you don’t wear any shoes at all,” said Alan, casting a glance down at the sheets of his bed and now putting on a jogging jacket that matched his pants. It was baggy on his wiry form. Dorothy checked her shoes, and then pulled herself up into the upper bunk. It smelled of soap and the sheets were impossibly soft. She looked down at Alan. He was rubbing hair gel in his hairs and rubbing it through his hair, making said hair stand up. His hair was too short to be properly spiked, so it sort of stuck out everywhere.
“Hey Alan,” Dorothy wondered. “Is there any real reason why you keep your hair like that? I always assumed it was to keep it out of your eyes…”
“It is.” Alan replied, peering into a mirror fastened to the wall between the bed-lined walls. “It’s too short to put into a ponytail and that would look dorky anyway, so I gel it up.” He explained. “Plus, I think it looks sexy.”
Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Plans for today?” She wondered, head tilted to the side slightly as Alan fixed his hair. Finally satisfied with the way his hair looked, Alan looked back up at Dorothy.
“Well, all we really have planned is a meeting with the President of Ozine, and he’s supposed to set us up with another gig.”
Ozine was huge. It was like
“Erm…so no global warming crisis?” Dorothy asked, suddenly feeling as though Earth was the worst planet in the entire universe, which it probably was. She was walking along the streets with Alan and Quincy.
“Global warming?”
“What Quin’s trying to say is that we’ve found ways around that crisis.” He explained with a light chuckle, pulling Dorothy away from the lure of the tempting shops and down another busy street. At the end of it was the biggest building Dorothy had ever seen.
Made of glass tinted to look black, it easily out-sized the White House twice, and the top of the building just barely scraped the bottom of clouds. She was amazed it could even stand up. Around the multiple glass doors people milled around and hurried in and out, flashing ID cards at burly-looking men in black suits as they stood next to the doors, wearing dark sunglasses and listening to orders on ear pieces.
“Impressed, doll?”
“A-and, we get to go in?” Dorothy stammered, casting wary glances at the guards. Alan came up alongside her and nodded.
“Yup. Got first-class passes. It’s illegal to deny us access.” He boasted. “Zack knows to make the right phone calls.
Before they went in, one of the guards stopped them suddenly and held out his hand expectedly. Both Quincy and Alan sighed and dug into their pockets, producing from within two cards the size of credit cards, which from the looks of it held their signatures, photos, the President’s signature, a barcode and a ID number. The guard took them and scanned them with a device that looked like the wands airport security guards used. It beeped, and the guard nodded, then frowned and pointed to Dorothy. “I need to see her ID.” He barked.
Dorothy blinked, unsure of what to say. Luckily,
“She’s a guest, Tom. Don’t got no ID.”
The guard continued to frown. “Get her a guest pass at the security desk.” He grunted, waving them in and handing them back their IDs.
Passing through the glass door, Dorothy felt the gaze of the guard burn into the back of her head and hurried along, clinging to Alan’s arm.
“Heh, pretty easy, huh sweetcakes?”
“Gay today then?” He wondered, rolling his eyes.
“Uh-huh! Maybe straight tomorrow…it’s so hard to decide…”
“Don’t over vex yourself.”
“There you three are!” Zachary’s voice exclaimed, running across the large marbled floor and past rows of shiny wooden desks. “You’re ten minutes late and the Prez’ is pissed! Here, this is yours.” Zack handed Dorothy a card that looked greatly like the IDs Alan and
“Serpenter.” Dorothy replied, taking the card and stuffing it into her pocket as Zachary nodded quickly, escorting them down a hall and down a flight of metal stairs. Dorothy assumed they were going underground, because there were no windows on the floor they were on, and instead there were bright, harsh white lights. It made her feel nervous and jittery.
“Oh, well, now I know.” Zachary replied sarcastically, after that the only sound their feet on the white and black swirled marble floors.
Zack led them down several halls and around a few corners. The place was amazingly huge and Dorothy didn’t know how he could keep track of the place and not get lost. Just when she thought her feet would give out, Zack stopped abruptly and turned down another narrower hallway. Alan and Dorothy just barely caught sight of him as he did this, and
“Gak! Don’t!”
“Come in.” A voice said from the other side. Zack pushed the heavy door open and walked into the oval office, his companions trailing along like ducks in a row.
A rather chubby man with a long beard and thick, coarse hair sat at his desk, and Dorothy saw he didn’t looked pissed at all. Rather happy, in fact.
“Ah, the hunters.” He greeted, waving toward two chairs that were sitting in front of the man’s desk. Zachary took one chair and motioned for Dorothy to take the other. “And the huntress.” The man added, lips curving into a smile.
“Dorothy, this is the President of Ozine.” Zachary introduced, looking a bit wary of the man, who extended a sweaty palm over the top of the desk for Dorothy to shake. Dorothy took the hand and shook it as quickly as possible.
“Glad to see you all are here.” The President continued. “As you know, we’ve been having a continuing problem reducing the number of Dirt Worms coming through the barriers. We attempted to extend the barriers to gain more land, but they just tunneled through while we were weak, and we’ve got two loose ones running in the outer plains.”
“Hang on,” Quincy, who had been leaning against the wall with one leg, propped against it, pushed himself off and walked over to the desk. “You telling me you’ve got two crazy, gigantic, man-eating worms on the loose right outside the city?” He asked loudly, staring at the President, who cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Yes, and that’s why we’ve got you, Mister Formido.” He said.
Zack sat up a little. “We’d be glad to take care of them,” he said hesitantly. “But you can’t move the barriers until we get a few out of the way.”
“Yes, well, Ozine will pay you well for it’s efforts.”
“Whoa, whoa, okay, now you’ve gotta stop.” Alan said suddenly, making Dorothy jump. He hadn’t said a thing since they’d come into the office, and had been standing behind her chair. Now he leaned forward, and stabbed Dorothy in the cheek with one of his long, unruly spikes of hair. “Ozine is going to pay us? The city? Do you mean they’re going to pay us out of tax dollars?”
Now the President, clearly easily intimidated, looked extremely uncomfortable, and shifted in his plush leather chair. “How else?” He answered.
“How else? You’re paying us tax dollars! You’re just giving us back our money.” Alan spat. “I knew it smelled fishy from the first day on the job. It’s a big scam.”
“Now, now, gentlemen,” the President spluttered to the glares he was receiving. “These worms are dangerous, and-“
“And we’re doing this for a living, you sweaty-palmed, fat old man!” Alan shouted. Dorothy grabbed his shoulder, least he lunge forward and spear the President.
“Now that’s enough, Ignavus! I understand that this may be a little upsetting, but I’m sure we can work something out to keep Ozine safe.”
“Pay us out of this building’s funds.” Zack said quickly.
“What?”
“Pay us out of your presidential funds. We don’t want tax money, we want to be paid properly for what we’re doing. Pay us our money out of what you’re paying everybody else, plus a bonus that equals to the money we’ve ultimately been giving ourselves through our taxes.” Zack demanded. “Or we can take our business elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere as in where?” The President narrowed his eyes. “There’s a reason they’re called Ozian Dirt Worms. They don’t live anywhere else except this planet.”
Zack shrugged. “So? We’ll pick up a new hobby. I’ve heard planet Sus next door’s got some warthogs the size of mini-vans. We could pack up in a day and be out of here to set up there. Leave you to fend for yourself, President, sir. It’s a fair offer; you either take it, or we’ll just take off.”
The President wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, thinking quickly. Alan glanced at Dorothy, his elbow propped on the arm of her chair. She could feel his breath against her cheek; he was breathing quickly and heavily, clearly enraged by what he had proclaimed as the “scam.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll pay you out of the funds. And I suppose the girl’s going to want a bonus too?”
“Naturally.”
The President shook his head. “Fine. But I have another matter to discuss with you.”
“Oh?” Zachary raised his eyebrows and leaned on the arm of his chair. “And what would that be?”
“The dance tonight.”
Alan’s elbow fell off the chair and he faltered.