John Statham: A Short-ish Story - Chapter Two

Weekly release? ...well lets say that life has its ways of making time flexible. Regardless, here is part two of four and things will continue to show up every week or so. - Michael

“Zwoomshed”

In singular intuitive motion we had stepped into the craft, the hatches were secured, and our craft found it’s way to reasonable ten thousand feet above the surface. It might have been a “shabby pile of commuter crap,” but in they eyes of one who had never actually had a proper experience with inter-galactic technology it was a sight for sore eyes. It’s interior was in the recently outdated decor of natural materials, mostly granite, wood, and artificial moss. The comfort was superb and quite bluntly a refreshing type of geometry.

“...really not an adventurous type. There’s this spot of bad luck and a precarious situation, most ordinary you know, but that’s the way it often comes. Would you mind tagging along as a sort of entourage of grandeur? I’m sure it would be a pleasure, it’s a quick little affair and far better for the education than those classes ever would be. By the way, you can call me by the name of Elby, it's a bit simpler that way. In a jiff I’m stopping by Starbucks and then we can blast, I hope you don’t mind the delay.”

“No problem man.”

“Would you like something, my tab of course?”

“A quad mocha would be great, thanks.”

“We’ll just drop in by Pike Place, everyone is making a hassle about visiting the original location there, but in all honesty there is a shop two blocks down with far better service and equally bad espresso.”

Our craft lurched, dropped, and then gently slowed to a stop next to the entrance of a shop marked by the iconic green mermaid. My new acquaintance swung down from the hatch and briskly entered the shop.

Near this moment I was overwhelmed by my concept of faith, the reason I say, “near this moment,” is that I was so overwhelmed I quit paying much attention to time and the disjointed flow of events from one to another. I thought back and realized there was a small amount of evidence, actually very large number of small evidences that had prepared me for this simple yet flying leap of faith. There were those moments I had honestly been rather disbelieving that it was, “just a dream” when I woke in the middle of the night and noticed a slim and monochromatically dressed girl most likely of sixteen or seventeen years sitting on the chest at the foot of my bed, or leaning against my monstrosity of a dresser. I had always thought it was simply the lighting, but now I realized that she really did have a rather grayish complexion.

Being a budding student of psychology 101 at the time, I was diagnosing everyone of some mental condition or another. Therefore  it was no surprise that she was a sterling example of an insomniac in my mind. We typically would discuss hypothetical situations, at least that is how she would present these stories of star crossed lovers and the dramas that always perturb society.

For a couple months it happened often and the hypothetical plots developed and criss-crossed each other. Slowly though, our meetings became less frequent and I had written it off as a recurring and disturbingly complex dream. I had these vague, almost subconscious impressions of an odd man stepping into a phone booth or a wind passing by that implied some unseen physical object's passing. It never really stole my peace with the world and until that shattering moment in class I had never fully realized these incidents in my mind.

I was still enwrapped by these thoughts when I heard the hatch pop open again. My host had in hand both my quad mocha and a caramel macchiato for himself. He gave me an odd look in response to my more obvious than I meant to express disdain for his choice of beverage. To break the soon to be awkward moment I inserted, "where to next?"

"Out of here, and quickly..." Elby glanced at the display above what could be called the windshield. "...I'm afraid a couple of fellows over at the air base are confounded by their radar right now and we'd best quit distracting them from real threats."

I was quiet and discreetly watched as he flipped a couple switches and then took hold of the control stick.

"Oh, you're probably wondering where we're actually going now, eh? I think we're just going to hop over to my flat on Arcon 14. It's a quick trip and a smooth little flight in."

"Um, what is Arcon 14 like?"

"Arcon 14? It's a funny little place. Mostly a lot of woodsmen who'd rather just ignore the galaxy and a couple of miniature tycoon types running wild wilderness adventure tours and such. The tagline is something like, 'you've never seen the galaxy until you've seen a four ton grey lechur.' Anyways, I've got a nice flat on the backside where it's mostly snow and mountains and no pesky tourists."

"Sounds pleasant enough."

"By all means, it's hard to find that kind of peaceful abandon these days. You've got to excuse me, but I need to study up in what time we've got."

With that he slid his seat back, grabbed a reading tablet from the center console and engrossed himself in his studies. I stared out the window to notice some stars flying past and a distant planet, well that's what it appeared in my mind, approaching rapidly. The on-board computer started spitting out some gibberish about a twelve degree approach with a vertical delay reboost, which coincided with some erratic swerving of the craft. By this point we could see little out the windshield but the looming planet. My friend was still engrossed by his tablet and unconcerned about what appeared to be our imminent death by smashing into a gigantic orange planet. Trying to hide my quickly diminishing fearlessness, I let out the breath I was subconsciously holding back as the craft suddenly launched itself up and darted to the right. I could now see around the large orange planet as we grazed by it's surface and began to slow for our approach to a small greyish green planet previously hidden behind the orange blob.

As we landed we entered a tunnel of sorts next to a cabin which would fit with the woods of Montana except for a cement and glass exterior of a more Frank Lloyd Wright appearance. I could sense us move through the tunnel and then stop in front of a slightly lit cement wall. As we stepped down from the craft, I was struck by the scent of leather, pine, and smoke. This scent stood in contrast to my expectation based on my surroundings; the room was large enough it was hard to describe it as a room. The slab of cement we stood on stretched into the murky gloom cast by occasional lights which hung from a ceiling I couldn't quite make out, but assumed was fifteen or so meters above us. Occasionally I saw an odd craft or other vehicle, some in obvious disrepair and others in pristine condition, but my attention was almost forcibly drawn to a large, perfectly matte white craft which towered over us, even from our stance a hundred meters away. I had to regain my focus quickly as my friend walked to a door a short distance down the wall and we entered a small room with two couches and an impressionist painting of a fearsome creature struggling through a blizzard on the wall.

"Good afternoon, how is your day?" The most intimidating man I had met in my life greeted my friend and handed him a dark burgundy liquor on the rocks. I surreptitiously glanced at his boots, his charcoal suit that was sculpted around his chest and shoulders, and his chiseled face of a weathered grey.

"Antius will show you the guest quarters and make you up a meal if you'd like," explained Elby as he handed his jacket to Antius. "It will require an hour or two for me to be ready to bring you up even with the whole situation. Until then you might like to look around and my tailor should find you sometime soon."

The room which had been vibrating the slightest bit ceased and Antius opened the door, "This is the way friend." He led me into a brightly lit hall, which opened into a large lounge where two of the walls were windows from which I could only see a sparkling fog bank. Antius flipped a switch as he stepped behind the granite counter. Frank Sinatra softly crooned and the lights lightly accented the dark wood shelves of liquors.

Chapter three should appear here in about a week...