Mr. Rager's Adventures

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.”

It's one of the phrases Bracatis remembers Bachil repeating the most; from the moment Bracatis could understand words, to the moment Bachil sent Bracatis off hurtling through the vacuum of space.

"Because of this, you must always be aware of the status of your ship during battle."

Alarms blare loudly in Bracatis’ ears. Red lights flashing on the holographic blueprint of the ship reveal an engine failure, or several. Bracatis doesn’t fret, but instead sits back in the loveseat and flicks her left wrist, fingers dragging upward. Another holographic map pops up, this one is of the current universe, and Bracatis taps at the blinking, red. dot that symbolizes the ship twice. The map zooms in on the ship now, wobbling through space. They are nearing the atmosphere of the planet of water, rock, and smog labeled Xeller 3 on the map. A loud boom sounds at the back of the ship. It veers the vehicle to the left. Farly, a stowaway picked up on the last planet, makes a sound of discontent on the back of the captain’s chair. Bracatis ignores it.

A holographic set of mercury orbs appears to her right. It was the ship’s artificial brain, or Gwing as Bracatis calls it.

“Four out of six engines offline. Xaladine has taken 76% damage. Would you like to employ your emergency systems, Captain?”

“I am landing the Xaladine on Xeller 3. Will she make it through the atmosphere, with so much damage?”

Gwing pulls up a blueprint of Xaladine, pinpointing engine failures, blasts from boomers and fluid tank ruptures. Bracatis hisses under their breath as she glances at the map of the galaxy. Three cruisers were still hot on their tail, and one more blast from the boomers will put the Xaladine into emergency sustenance mode, which essentially means hibernation until major repairs are made.

They can’t afford to be floating in orbit with these cruisers after them.

“Xaladine is capable of withstanding the entrance to Xeller 3’s atmosphere. The cruisers are unlikely to follow. Xeller 3 is infamous for its inhabitants, and it does not have the resources needed to repair Xaladine. Landing there could lead to permanent residence.” Gwing states in a flat tone.

“Nonsense!” Bracatis chuckles, jetting the ship off to the right just as one of the cruisers shoots at the ship again. Bracatis watches the boomer pass the window; a giant rock hurtling through space with enough force to knock out moons and suns.

“Gwing, shut down our last two engines, it's time to land!”

“Shutting down engines will drastically decrease speed. Do you wish to continue?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Engines five and six offline. Speed decreased 30%. Closest enemy vehicle is fourteen speeds away.”

Bracatis huffs, hopes they can get the ship through that atmosphere, and quickly. Based on Gwing’s words, the space cruises won’t dare follow. Bracatis is counting on that.

“Prepare for descension. I’m opening the gravity waves,” Bracatis murmurs.

“Captain, is there someone on this ship my system cannot read?”

There is no one besides Bracatis and Farly in the ship; Bracatis merely speaks the words out of habit.

“No Gwing,” Bracatis answers with a sigh and flips one of the three blue switches on the control board.

The Xaladine begins to drop, and another cruiser zooms right past, moving too fast to stop. By the time it would be able to slow and turn around, Xaladine would have dropped eight speeds. Bracatis only has one cruiser to lose now, about twelve speeds until they land on Xeller 3. They haven’t even manipulated gravity to Xaladine’s fullest extent yet.

A small smile curls the edge of the lips as Bracatis flips the second blue switch and punches a few green buttons. Bracatis eyes the map watching the last cruiser zoom right above the ship, joining the others in a desperate attempt to turn around.

“Xeller 3 is now eight speeds away. Activating full manipulation of Xaladine’s gravity force is not necessary.”

“I still worry about Xaladine couldn't withstand an atmosphere like this.,” Bracatis hums, easing the ship down.

“Xaladine is capable, and you make an exceptional captain. Even though the ship is damaged, there is high probability that you will be able land safely, Bracatis.”

Bracatis chuckles and nods. “Well, then here we go,”

-

Lucinda stares out of the window in her dark room, staring through the empty lot of land next to her house. The man who used to lived there recently died from disease. His family burned the house and the land to start over. The remaining grass is soldered, blackened, and browned. The air still holds the scent of smoldering things, and Lucinda swears she can still see smoke rising from the ground at night.

She should be asleep; her mother had put her into bed hours ago, but she couldn't sleep. It was the norm for her to be up later than the rest of her household. Instead of waking her mother like she had when she was young, Lucinda would read or simply stare out of the window. Her father works long hours and now they have the baby. There isn't much time or patience when it came to the ten-year-old girl. Lucinda wasn't completely upset by that fact. She knew her parents still love her dearly.

As she stares out the window, the sky seems to brighten. A glance at the clock confirms it is much too late for the sun to be rising. Lucinda presses her face and hands against the glass to see better. Something is falling from the sky, something big, and it’s coming quickly. Behind the falling object a bright light streaks across the sky, barely missing whatever is falling out the sky. There’s a thunderous boom she hears outside, but it hardly shakes their home. Lucinda gasps, her breath streaking across the window.

Seconds pass and the thing comes closer to view. Lucinda can see that it is a house, crashing down towards earth. It’s old looking and kind of beat up, like it had been dropped from the sky one too many times. It’s coming right at her and she has no time to be afraid – she only hopes that the baby doesn’t wake up before the crash. She thinks he might be scared if he did.

Lucinda holds her breath, whispering: “1...2...3...4...5...6...7...BOOM!”

The ship smashes down and the ground beneath the house trembles at the impact. Michael stirs in his crib, giving one of those baby sounds that makes Lucinda freeze, waiting for cries. They never came. She exhales a breath of relief and turns her eyes back to the house outside her window. The lights are on in downstairs, but aside from that, she can’t see much. The lots are too spaced out.

She has an idea. Never mind the fact that it is late, and she should not be outside at all, let alone without her parents knowing. Lucinda has to check it out. She will be back before anyone notices a thing. Lucinda is quiet as grabs her loafers. She puts them on the windowsill and cracks the window effortlessly. Muscle memory has her slip on the loafers before she drops out of the window on the tips of her toes. Not long ago, she was sneaking out to take food scraps she had saved from dinner to their next-door neighbor after the whole neighborhood condemned him and left him to die, alone.

Lucinda stops outside her window and listens for any sounds of a rousing infant but hears nothing. She closes the window, leaving just enough space for her fingers to pry open when she returns. The trip across the yard is noisier than she anticipates, not remembering the yard is full of dried leaves. She makes sure to move by the moonlight and tries to avoid the patches that holds crunchy dried leaves. Her parents’ room might be on the other side of the house, but Lucinda doesn’t want to be caught. Her mother dang near whipped her ‘til the sun came up when she’d been caught coming back from the neighbors’ home. About ten minutes later Lucinda stands at the edge of the burnt grasses of the Leeman lot. Old man Leeman was dead, but Lucinda can feel his lonely presence here in the ashes. She wonders if the new neighbor wants to clean up the ashes or not. She naively hopes that they don’t.

Lucinda approaches the house tentatively, listening for sounds of movement or television but hears nothing. The shadow she saw in the window is gone, and Lucinda thinks she is in the clear to explore. She creeps up to the window and stands on her tiptoes to look in. She can see a big red chair, and a TV set, but not much else. It looks like a normal old house to her; nothing that makes it cool enough to crash from the sky.

She walks the back, wondering why the place is so dang messed up. Wood is falling off in some places, and there were huge burn marks and holes in the back porch. They were smoking, still hot to her finger. What could leave marks like that?

As Lucinda keeps walking, she notices that the bottom part of the house and patio on this side has been broken off. A streak of light escapes the inside of the house, ever curious, Lucinda creeps closer. She can see the back of the same room she saw through the front window, the back of the red chair, the front of the Television set, and a pair of boots. Boots attached to long, strong legs that move steadily towards her direction. Lucinda takes a step back, wanting to turn away but her feet are stuck. The light from the house is replaced by the face of…. something, peering out.

It looks shocked, though pleasant, and smiles at her.

“Guess you’re wondering what my ship’s doing here?”

Lucinda, wide-eyed, nods.

“I crash landed here. Was hoping to get fixed up before I encountered any of the inhabitants here, but you’ve got me foiled.”

Lucinda continues staring.

“Ahh, well, run along now.”

Lucinda does as told breaking into a full sprint and running around the broken house and through the yard. She doesn’t stop until she gets to her home, feet crashing around in the leaves with no regard for her parents. Lucinda rips open the window and hops into the bed quickly, not thinking once about her shoes on the sheets. She slams the window shut and stares out, looking back at the house. All the lights were on inside. Her ragged breath fogs the glass of the window, and she has to wipe it away with her palm to look out at the house. She wonders how the thing inside plans to clear the house of those ugly scorch marks.

Is there any way that one person can clean up a mess like that on their own? Lucinda shakes her head, deciding that there is no way, not even if it is her own mother doing the cleaning. She turns from the window to look at the crib again. Baby Michael is sleeping peacefully, and she thinks she should probably do the same. There is no way Lucinda will risk sneaking back out tonight: especially not after seeing that monster in the fields. No matter how kind it was, big eyes and a hulking frame like that probably belonged to some kind of alien killing machine. Lucinda startles at this thought and sits up in bed wondering if she should wake her mom and dad. If that thing is a killing machine, it would have killed her, but it didn’t. It told her to go away.

Overcome by exhaustion Lucinda laid down in the bed, forgetting about her shoes and the mud and leaves. The moment her head hit the pillow she fell asleep.

-

The time of sunlight has barely begun, but Bracatis has not slept in what feel like ions. The repairing of the Xaladine went on through the dim moonlight. The small planetary life form holds Bracatis’ mind for most of the dark time as well, wondering why they were out when no one else seemed to be. It was small and frail looking, so it couldn’t have been a warrior or a guard of this planet. It had stood frozen with fear when Bracatis addressed it, and then went, when dismissed without question. This prompts multiple questions for Bracatis.

“What are the life forms of this planet comprised of, Gwing?”

“Downloading foreign database. Please allow my systems a moment to update.” Gwing responds immediately.

“Time estimate?”

“The download is complete. These life forms call themselves humans. They are primitive, knowing not how to care for their vessels. The composition of these vessels consists of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen. They have bones made of calcium, hair made of keratin, and vital organs such as their eyes, heart and lungs, not unlike the beings of the Roger Clan.”

Bracatis nods, not interrupting the computers presentation.

“Xaladine has landed on the planet known as Xeller 3, however the dwellers of this dying planet refer to it as Earth. The Earth travels around the Qora, at one hundred and seven thousand kilometers per hour. Earth also rotates on its axis at four hundred and sixty meters per second.

There are an average twelve hours of light from the sun, and twelve hours from the moon, though this varies on location and other factors. These twenty-four hours make up for one day on earth. You would do well to learn their measurements and references to simple things and speed to not be mistaken as ignorant or stand out.”

Bracatis turns away from the map and falls into to the captain’s chair. With a flick of the wrist, the diagram of the damaged ship turns to something like a television screen, displaying clips and stills of various humans. The humans came in all shapes and sizes, brandishing different colors, but only two distinctive looks: broad chested, with sharp features and lots of hair; or softer, sloping figures with round plates across the chest. Bracatis selects a still of one of the softer humans. The epidermis held a color not unlike the ground that Bracatis had lands the ship into, brown and rich. The human had long hair, coiled tightly into long strings of keratin.

“Why do they all look the same? There seems to be only two versions of the same thing.” Bracatis couldn't seem to phrase the question the right way, but Gwing caught on all the same.

The screen minimizes, and up pops another screen; this one a diagram of the two types of humans.

“The inhabitants of Earth believe the body has only two states of physical being. Their culture heavily relies on this, functioning within predestined roles. The male is strong, the hunter and protective while the females bear the children, a small human like the one you recently encountered, and nurture them to full maturity”

The features of the humans are like those of the Rager Clan, one could well believe the humans were created in Rafit’s image. It was beautiful yet terrifying to behold.

“What's this about the planet dying?”

“Humans have only recently learned how to transport themselves using engines and gasoline. Their very first vehicle being produced at the end of the last century. They have not yet discovered alternative fuels, and it is unknown if efforts are being actively made to repair their planets or if they plan to abandon, though it is likely they do not know, being so limited with technology.”

Bracatis sat in silence, scanning Gwing’s diagram of the Earth. It pinpoints things like smog, overuse and production of items that are not biodegradable, and much more. Bracatis scrunches their nose; these humans were primitive indeed.

“What is this?” Bracatis asks, looking at a specific red bar on the chart.

“Pollution from testing and using nuclear weapons.”

Bracatis whistles in response. “Yikes.”

“How do you plan to assimilate? Earth does not know your kind.” Gwing transitions, shifting the diagrams to display the collected footage of various humans.

Bracatis watches the screen for less than half a second, but land back on the still of the human female beside the footage.

“I like this one.”

“There are no resources on this planet like on Rager. Jumug Rafit has stocked the ship to overabundance, however, it will take some time to prepare the ship for travel again.”

“Thank you for the reminder of my impending doom.” Bracatis chuckles, trying to make light of a situation that weighs heavily on the soul. It has been a while since there has been any company, and they are very far from home. There is no one to guide Bracatis but their conscience and Gwing.

Bracatis stands and shakes out their limbs, preparing for the change. The reach of the arm diminishes, skin contracting closer to the body. Then splotches like fresh bits of rich soil sprout up all over, taking over the deep indigo that had once been Bracatis color. It was interesting to watch the shift take place. The way the muscles softened, generously, but not by much. How the hair sprouted from the scalp.

"Bracatis, fun fact, human hair and human nails are made of the same material, keratin."

Bracatis frowns. Of course, it wasn't the first time the Bracatis has altered appearance, but it was the first time having such qualities and the hair, as Gwing had coined it, was itchy. Bracatis finds themselves digging their fingers between each loc every so often.

"How is THAT fun at all?" Bracatis tugs at the loc and examines the hair and the nails side by side. The curiosity only lasts for a moment before there's a familiar rumbling that doesn't strike fear but a match under Bracatis and brings the mind back to the present. They toss the loc, as if to throw it to the floor, yet it swings to the back having still been attached to their head. "Looks completely different to me, but that be the beauty of the universe."

Bracatis moves to where the feeding station is. They rummage the ration bins, finding countless packets of the finest rations their home had to offer. And now it was gone. Bracatis wonders, for just a second, how long it has been since they home. What seemed like moments could have been ages the way time passes on the home planet. Bracatis empties the goop like contents into a large round shallat. There are hundreds of small, round baubles around the feeding station. Bracatis reaches for one and twists the cap of, also emptying the liquid into the shallat.

They blow into the shallat. The heat from the mouth seems to open the mixture, allowing the liquid to be absorbed into the goop. Satisfied with the rate of absorption, Bracatis shakes the shallat as if they are sifting what is inside and keeps at it until it congeals and begins to wiggle with each shake. Bracatis lowers the shallat to the nearest surface and turns and takes a few steps to the right.

There is a small round contraption, something that Bachil had kept as a keepsake for decades, was now the only remembrance of home, even though it hadn’t come from there. Bracatis doesn’t remember where it had some from, only that it had meant the world to Bachil, and made a series of odd sounds that Bachil had called cullrev. It was not one word but two of the home words.

“Music, oule ga newo. Music ya unide cull rev.”

They call it music. Music is like a pretty sound.

The pretty sound plays throughout the ship. It causes Bracatis to be still for a moment, a take a deep breath.

“Gwing,” Bracatis says. “Tell me what supplies are on this planet that I can use to fix my ship.”

“I have composed a list of items. The main problems consist of the downed engines, the hole in the rear of the ship, and the small little human who looked at you outside of your human form.”

Bracatis had taken to slurping on the gelatinous mixture and stops when the ship makes the last remark about the human child.

“Why should I worry about such a small thing? You said yourself it’s not a warrior.”

“Correct. However, the small human could report your presence to a larger one. As I mentioned before, these beings are primitive and fearful. Too many of them own very harmful weapons.”

“Well, aren’t you a cosmic void,” Bracatis grumbles, slurping down more of the mixture.

“You could find most of the materials you’re looking for nearby, if you move quickly.”

As if on cue the music changed into something Bracatis never quite thought of as pretty. It helped her do things she didn’t like to do, and efficiently. They thought of this music as motivating. The sound of Bracatis’ hands clapping together cracks through the inside of the ship.

“Then let’s get going!”

`

It’s late in the morning when Lucinda decides to sit out on her back porch. She’d woken up early, despite of her late night excursion, which was lucky for her since she had fallen asleep with her muddy shoes in the bed. Being the weekend, she is able to gather all her bed laundry and start washing before her mother comes and sees the mess. Instead, Lucinda receives a praising for doing her chores without mother asking. Once she is finished hanging the clean linens to dry, Lucinda decides lemonade and a nice sit on the porch would be nice.

She’s got a bar of chocolate in her pocket, and she cracks it open looking off into the distance, when something straight ahead of her catches her eye. A flicker she thinks, a glinting there in the light. Lucinda is confused. The land there should be empty, shouldn’t hold anything but dirt and ash and yet Lucinda seems to remember that whatever it was glinting in that empty lot, was the same reason her shoes were muddied. A shockingly cool breeze rolls across the backs of her arms and goosebumps raise on her skin. She sees it again, a glinting light and it props her to jump from the safety of her own porch and walks over to the Leeman lot.

The closer she gets the more she remembers of last night. It’s almost as if she can see herself sneaking through the darkened lot, towards what she now remembers to be a house that had crash landed from the sky. Lucinda’s eyes widen as the house makes itself visible to her, like she had waved away a mirage. Lucinda shrieks to find herself nearly face to face with what looks like a human, but she somehow knows it’s the thing from last night. Lucinda holds on tightly to the mason jar in her hand and keeps her back straight, though the sloshing contents prove how frightful the child really is. It stares at her, just as it had last night; unthreatening but not exactly welcoming, either.

Lucinda takes a deep breath and sticks her other hand into her pocket where it lingers for a moment, fingering the foil of the chocolate bar.

As soon as Lucinda comes out of her pocket the Bracatis stands up quickly, taking a defensive stance. Lucinda notes that the thing had dropped a foil wrapper like the she had in her own hand. The shining metal of the boots glints off the light in the sun, and Lucinda thinks that this must be what attracts her over here.

“Hey, hey! Little human girl do not-” Bracatis stops short, marveling at the shining object that the girl holds out.

“I remember you, from last night. You fell from the sky.” Lucinda nods towards the ship.

Bracatis nods once, not loosening their stance at all. It was making Lucinda slightly nervous, yet still she steps forward towards the alien being.

“You look different.”

The being nods again. “I changed my form so that I could adapt, though I don’t plan to be here long. I also shielded my hub from view, but somehow, you’ve got one on me again.”

Lucinda shrugs, taking yet another step forward. The being lowers their defenses, and stands there, watching as Lucinda approaches.

“I seen your boots shining off the light.” Bracatis looks down. A basic oversight. No wonder they had worried so much about them being out in the galaxies on their own. “You from space, space?”

Bracatis looks over, curious. “What is space, space?”

“Like those space men mama said are taking away our good money?”

“Space men?” Bracatis repeats.

Lucinda huffs and rolls her eyes. She walks past Bracatis and then circles them, looking up and down. When she gets back to the front she nods as if she approves and then makes a deep grunting sound in her throat. Bracatis looks around, knowing a similar sound on a planet in a neighboring galaxy meant something to those waiting off the line of sight. Instead, the girl continues to make the sound, scrunching her face once more and then projecting a slimy ball of liquid from her mouth onto the floor. “Well, it’s not a secret anymore so you don’t have to go pretending.”

Bracatis almost looks offended, decides instead to observe rather than point out how the statement seemed sort of, well, gurlrish.

The girl sits down on the bottom step of the porch and sets down the jar. She begins to rip open the blue foil object she had brought out and then offers her hand. Bracatis peers into the open palm at the object. It was a color akin to the child’s skin and divided into equal little segments.

"Eat it." The child says, taking a piece into her mouth herself and shaking her hand a bit.

Bracatis, against the screaming voices of the tribe in their head, takes it and smells it. The nodes are sweet, deep, and Bracatis recognizes that smell somewhere down deep inside. Bracatis breaks off a piece and takes a bit into the mouth. It tastes likes warm drinks Bachil used to make. The taste brings back so many memories that they eat the entire thing without realizing. When Bracatis looks back up, the child is admiring with a small look on her face, quite mischievous.

"What are you up to, was that poison?" Bracatis asks.

The girl stands up quickly shaking her head. Her foot hits the lemonade and the jar goes flying towards Bracatis. Bracatis takes a step back, alarmed at the situation and sees how the girl before her is shaking, visibly now. Bracatis refines her reaction.

"Okay. I apologize. Please, sit." Bracatis gestures towards the porch steps again.

Lucinda does as she is told practically falling on her butt. Bracatis leans down and grabs the jar, placing it back at the child's feet and wiping the dirt off her fingers.

"Can I sit beside you?"

"I am not from here and that taste to me is so…" Bracatis stops, unable to describe the sensations they felt. At least, not within a level comfortability. "What was that?"

Lucinda looks down at her hands. The left hand is clenched tightly, from fear. She opens it to see the remains of the little brown pieces. The summer heat and the clenched hand has done wonders to reshape the once solid object.

The human looks up at Bracatis and forces the hand upward, displaying it before Bracatis to see.

"Chocolate,"