Self-Serve

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. If you want to survive, you better empty your lungs before taking a plunge into the void. Otherwise, the vacuum will rip the air out of your body faster than you can exhale. Space is unforgiving like that.

The transport shuttle I commandeered was never meant to travel far from the main vessel. I may have escaped certain death at the hands of my backstabbing crew, but aimlessly floating without a destination was turning into a far worse fate.

Help wasn’t coming, nor did I want to see those mutinying brigands ever again. It was their funeral if they wanted to pilot the ship back to Earth. Backtracking would take them a couple of generations, and all that waited for them was the dead Sun our ancestors prematurely exhausted, and the frozen planets they left behind long before I was born.

The only respite from my growing hunger was the cryostasis chamber beside the storage rack at the back of the shuttle. I knew the process was equivalent to sealing myself in a coffin, but at least the hunger pains would stop. I offered my hand to the cryostasis chamber, which scanned my vitals as it prepared a chemical cocktail to pause my state of being. Less than an hour later, my frozen bath was ready to initiate. I waited hours more while delaying the inevitable. While I still had the energy to walk, I climbed inside and slowly sealed the hatch. The small chamber filled with gas, and I went out like a light.

Those damn hunger pains were still there when I woke. The soreness was oddly a relief. Somehow, I was still alive.

“Hello, Captain Bennett.” It was a stranger’s voice, almost like mine, except it was like hearing a recording of myself that was a bit different from what I heard in my head.

My vision was blurry at best, but as I blinked, little corners of my periphery became clear. I was lying on my back with my arms resting along the compact-dirt ground. As my hands brushed against the floor, it felt like the artificial soil used on the Runaway Cruise, except softer and denser like the fabled real thing.

I had solid ground beneath me for the first time in my life. Despite finally accomplishing the objective set generations before me to find a suitable home, my unresolved hunger twisted my gut in knots. At the same time, my gnawing thirst scratched at my sanity like a rabid animal trying to tear its way out of a cage.

“Who are you?” I asked through a hoarse throat.

“You’re safe. We call this home, but you likely have another name for our planet. We reversed your state of cryostasis to start a dialogue between our species. It is a momentous day as you are our first contact with extraterrestrial life.” It was the same familiar voice as before. In their attempts to communicate with me, they must have borrowed samples of my voice without realizing how disorienting that would be.

The luminescent walls cast warm orange light over the room. My cryostasis chamber lay discarded nearby with hefty dings and a huge gash running down one side. The tools they used to pry me free looked like they were constructed from metals and gems that they powered by hooking wires into the smooth glowing walls. Each instrument looked like a discarded shell meant to be worn by an octopus. It was like nothing I had ever seen.

My blurry focus settled, and I realized the shifting sea surrounding me was made up of bulbous creatures huddled together over a tangle of interwoven pink tentacles. It was as if giant slugs sat atop a mountain of oversized worms. Each bean-shaped body had a matching metallic collar wrapped around its core. One of the monstrous things straightened its wobbly limbs as it strained to support its plump body on thin stilts. A dozen hexagonal eyes clustered together at the tip of its slug body as it watched me.

“What have you done with me?” I asked.

“We rescued you. Your shuttle crashed on one of our moons long ago. We recently developed the means to retrieve it. Since then, it has taken us some time to understand your cryostasis chamber, but we found instructions in your shuttle, as well as clues to your language. You may call us tentacmous. It is a rough translation, made by forcing a bit of your vocabulary together," the multi-eyed monster beside me responded.

The tentacmous tapped its metallic collar as if typing away along a smooth typewriter. The speakers within its collar relayed English with academic precision, and each alien in my vicinity wore the same rounded translator.

“How long was I frozen?” I asked.

“In human standards, you were in a state of cryostasis for two billion, eight hundred ninety-three million, six hundred twenty-one thousand, four hundred sixty-seven years, two months, twelve days, sixteen hours, forty-one minutes, and eighteen seconds. Would you like us to continue? We have mapped your timescale to the nanosecond and can continue further into micro units if that is important to you,” another tentacmous explained.

“Stop talking,” I said as I grew dizzy.

I heaved in air to deal with my panicking heart, but my dry throat gagged on the arid atmosphere around me. It was as if the air was poison, and my throat expelled it before I could even try. I inhaled through my nostrils with cool air calming my panicking lungs. Now that I was paying attention, I realized I could only breathe through my nostrils. I reached for my nose and felt a metal snout with a mesh respirator plastered to my face. My fingers probed the edges of the device glued down with an alien adhesive. Regardless of their warm welcome, I was on a hostile planet and needed to make sure I had control of it.

I scrambled off the dirt mound and grabbed the nearest tentacmous by its communication collar. It barely weighed as much as a football. My two eyes stared at the twelve alien eyes before me. Even without words, I read the fear manifest on its face.

I yelled, “I need water. Now!”

“Can you not make it yourself? You traveled all this way. We figured you had a means of providing for yourself,” one of the tentacmous asked in defense of its friend in my grasp.

“If humans want something, we harvest it, although I can’t because I’m a billion years from everything I know!” I told the cowering crowd.

“Please don’t hurt us. We made some water after examining the composition of your body. It was simply an intellectual challenge to understand you better, but we can bring it here. Please stop hurting us. Please. Please. Please.” The tentacmous that was speaking hovered its tentacle over the same spot along its communication collar to relay its plea.

Now that I stood, I towered over the little aliens. Even when they strained to stand on their tentacles, they barely reached my waist. I looked for weapons, anything they could use against me. Besides their silver collars, the tentacmous did not appear to carry any other possessions. The tools they used to pry open my cryostasis chamber lay flat on the ground, but none of the tentacmous made a move for them.

“Where is the water?” I demanded.

“This way,” one of the tentacmous said.

The tentacmous turned in unison to the edge of the room. There was a small opening reminiscent of a doggy door they crawled out of one after the other. Despite their fear, none of them budged their way in front of the others to flee from me. They retained machine-like order as they slithered out in a single file. The slug in my grip struggled to follow its cohorts as its tentacles flailed for the ground below, but I held my grip firm and my hostage close by.

After waiting a moment, I figured the tentacmous had abandoned their compatriot and left me here to die of thirst. I punched the ceiling in frustration, and small bits of debris rained down on me. I scratched away more of the ceiling and found only a few inches separated me from the outside world. I pushed through the natural roof and emerged from the ground like a corpse crawling from its grave.

A thick wave of heat struck me in the face. I had never experienced humidity before, as everything aboard the Runaway Cruise was temperature controlled and stable. I was instantly slick with sweat, and the unwelcome heat made me all the angrier.

The tentacmous out in the open turned back, their multitude of eyes quivering at my destructive presence. One of them uttered, “We built that home for you.”

“Should have built it bigger. Now show me where the water is,” I said.

Similar mounds to the one I emerged from dotted the landscape. A worn flap sown together from thick vines covered each doorway to protect the huts from their planet’s strong winds. Between each subterranean dwelling, little ravines worn down by generations of travel flowed through the town that stretched farther than I could see.

I followed the trail of tentacmous. My boots left soft impressions on the alien grass blanketing their world. The gravity was lighter than I was used to, and each step carried me farther than I expected. It forced me to walk in an awkward prance as the tentacmous in my grasp swung by my side like a neglected stuffed animal.

The surrounding foliage ranged from orange to a vibrant red, while the horizon was a marvelous wonder. Diverse hues of blue and green stretched across the sky above far-off mountains framing the scene in front of me. It was the first time I had seen any of these landmarks outside of a datapad, but the image searches I used to peruse never matched the vibrance ahead of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I succumbed to the awe-struck wonders of solid ground.

Thousands of tentacmous gathered to watch us pass. They were quite plump when not wearing communication collars. While individually they weren't intimidating, as a unified mob, they could surely overwhelm me, yet no one even whispered to their nearest neighbor in my presence. Even the one in my grasp only squirmed to escape without ever biting at my hand.

Within minutes, we came across another pack of tentacmous wearing silver communication collars. The new group hastily crawled towards us, with their frontrunner holding a blue cup fashioned from stone outstretched in one tentacle. I raced ahead, swiped the cup from its grasp, and downed the clear liquid in one gulp. It was the best-tasting drink I’d ever had, so much so that I immediately wanted another glass. Relief extended through my body, and I released my grip on the trembling tentacmous I carried with me all this way.

“Where is the rest of the water?” I asked.

“That was everything! Do you know how difficult it was to create what you just drank? The two necessary gasses require an explosive catalyst that yields very little product. You cannot seriously expect us to make more?” The tentacmous dragged its tentacle along its collar ever so slightly to relay a horrified and confused inflection.

“I need water to survive. Whatever it costs, I need it. By the way, how did you know to bring this to me?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” the tentacmous responded.

“I told your friends that I needed water, and you approached with water at the ready. How did you know to bring me this? Did they contact you somehow?” I asked.

“We exchange information freely within our shared mind. So long as one of us expereinces it, the rest of us know it,” it said.

“Well, that's interesting. Where are your warriors? Do you have any fighters? A military?” I asked, giving voice to a plan taking root at the back of my mind.

“We don’t understand those words. Why are you hurting us?” the tentacmous asked.

“You’re about to learn a lot about humanity,” I explained while grabbing the nearest tentacmous by the collar.

I tried naming them at first, to establish some system of order, but it was pointless as all the tentacmous are essentially the same person. I always kept one with me. In fear of one life, they raced to complete the challenges I threw in front of them. All the tentacmous needed was my encouragement, and they could achieve the impossible.

Soon enough, a nameless slug halfway around their world found a more efficient means to manufacture water. The knowledge gained from the singular experience was shared by every tentacmous, providing me with a wealth of clean water.

The days were too hot and the nights too cold, so I asked for a palace to protect me from the extremes. After a lifetime crammed in a confined spaceship, I could not stuff myself in one of their holes in the ground. I wanted to stand high in the sky and feel the wind on my face during the few tolerable minutes of the day. I thought it might take them longer to build than my lifespan would accommodate, but several billion sentient slugs from across their homeworld swarmed the nearest mountain.

They constructed roving machines that helped them churn through their planet. Construction proceeded without pause. Any time one tentacmous needed a break, another body would step in to fill its role. Building my palace only took them a matter of days, and the tentacmous continued excavating the surrounding region to give me an unbeatable view of the horizon.

I had read about rocking chairs and the joys of watching the sunset without ever understanding the appeal until now. Gazing at the sun’s reliable rise and fall each day was better than all the stored media files saved aboard the Runaway Cruise. Having three consistent meals served to me every day wasn’t bad either.

A slab of roasted meat was presented to me by one of the tentacmous. I carved out a large bite and chewed my way through the rigid flesh. The animals of this world were only edible to me if the tentacmous scorched the meat until it was charred all the way through. Even with the gamey chewiness the burnt meat retained, the food here was still a tremendous improvement from what I had tolerated aboard the Runaway Cruise.

“How’s your steak?” I asked the tentacmous sitting in the basket-like chair across from me.

“We should never have brought you home,” my current captive responded, repeating their tired mantra.

“How long has it been?” I asked. I did not need a calendar since the tentacmous were practically walking encyclopedias.

“Three years. Three long years.” My guest returned its attention to the food in front of it. The tentacmous ate their meals by sucking on their uncooked food until it was as dry as a log. I didn't know if they had teeth, but their mouth was hidden under their cluster of tentacles. It was a bit disturbing to watch, but it was better than eating alone.

“Well, friend, if you do not want to engage in small talk, then we can move on to the only issue that matters. How long until the people you are cloning from my DNA are ready?” I asked.

“We discovered cloning in the process of sustaining species on the edge of extinction, which was never an issue until you introduced us to an appetite for meat. The process was never meant to give you partners to mate with,” the tentacmous explained while staring up at me with all twelve of its eyes.

“The more polite term is spouse,” I said.

“A spouse is a person who wants to share a life with you. Not someone you grow in a lab.” The tentacmous restrained its anger, but their feelings were still evident with the slightest overextended brush of a tentacle against their communication device.

“Then make several clones if that helps you feel better. I can meet all the potentials you develop and convince them there are perks to marrying the emperor. If the first batch of clones is not interested in my ugly mug, then make more until we develop someone who is,” I said.

I stood from my seat and walked onto the balcony to stare at the vast field before me. During my first few weeks of adjusting to their planet, I had to stuff rocks in my pockets to weigh myself down and avoid atrophy within their lower gravity. Then I discovered their vast mineral mines. I commissioned the tentacmous to shape elegant shoulder pads, bracers, and several crowns in various styles for every season and special occasion. Simply by wearing these ornaments, every moment of my waking day became part of the exercise I needed to belong here. Thankfully my future children would not have to experience the same indignities.

I basked in the beauty of the landscape before me while confiding to my hostage and closest confidant, “The next generation of humans will not even know we had a previous planet. They will just know this home and the life I set out for them. You did not realize this when you rescued one man, but you saved all mankind in the process.”

I turned to gauge the tentacmous’ response and found the bulbous creature charging towards me at a speed I had never seen them achieve. Its thin tentacles bent tremendously with each leaping gallop. The tentacmous hurled itself at my center. It knocked me back, and together we tumbled over the waist-high wall of the balcony.

The little tentacmous was staring right at me as we plummeted to our deaths. Several of its tentacles wrapped around my throat and core while another tentacle began typing into its communication collar. “It took us too long to work up the courage to sacrifice one of ourselves. To kill you will be well worth it.”

I did not dignify the collective consciousness with a response during the final whirls and spins of our descent. My arrival introduced humanity’s propensity for violence to achieve our goals. Now all the tentacmous knew of the self-serving catharsis of wrath.

They had already developed a taste for animals during my short time here. Whole new doors they never would have knocked on had been blown open by my arrival, and every one of them now knew it. Even if I would not be beside the tentacmous to see what would become of them, my legacy was bound to outlast all those who came before me.