Blublot3
a short story
“Okay look, you’ve had two earth days plus 44 xincrins to make your decision, Harnzon. What’s it going to be?”
Harnzon looked up from his Triangulated Visual Monitor, meeting the silver blaze of Urionk’s gaze. How he despised his fellow collector’s nagging most days. The only days he could tolerate her presence were when he was piloting and that didn’t happen often. When he did pilot, though, Urionk took on the obsessive task of tending to the specimens they were taking back to Blublot 1. Their home planet benefited greatly from their work, scouring Blublot 3 for samplings to prove its existence was still relevant. Even if some of the samples were rejected, and hundreds were, the feasting made it all worthwhile.
Harnzon was stuck making his final choice. They had 299 samples. Only one more could be added to the rack. Still, Harnzon waited. It was This or That, like the book he found twenty-two visitations before. He could pick only one and Harnzon did not want any of his selections to go to feast.
“Well?”, Urionk prodded.
“If this, then that,” Harnzon said, without even a twitch of his third eye.
All four hands went to Urionk’s bulbus skull. “We are already late, Harnzon. I will not cover up for your indecisiveness, you know. Commander Brakx has TVM’d me three times already.”
“Then you are part of the cover-up already. What is another 14 xincrins?” Harnzon widened his eyes with meaning. “Dump me now and I will ensure your treachery is revealed.”
Harnzon tapped the screen of his TVM. Of course, he was recording everything. Urionk should have realized he was nobody’s fool.
“You wouldn’t!”
“Yes, I would.”
Urionk’s hands slid down the 43 centimeter length of her glossy black, green dappled face, satisfying Harnzon with her submission. Oh, those dapples, though. His heart beat a little faster and he turned all three eyes away. He could not let her realize the truth he kept cordoned inside the eighth chamber of his heart. The only place a Vixenth had that belonged to no other but them. Every microscopic particle of their physiology was scannable by the open eye, except the eighth chamber. Created by the life givers.
Harnzon spun around, returning to his observations of the two potential samples on his TVM. He zeroed in on the bland human heads talking on screen. No dapples, stripes, or interesting nodules to appeal to his senses, but their appearance was not the purpose. He had discovered them three days ago, as he retrieved his one-hundred and forty-ninth sample. He would have won his bet with Urionk had he simply claimed one of these two excellent samples. The prize was piloting the Dahlly2, back to Blublot1. Harnzon had not experienced the joy of navigating the Xrisis wormhole with Dahlly2, this being only her third voyage. She handled sweet coming into to this quadrant, but the rapture of the wormhole was the ultimate test and exhilaration. Just riding through was gonzornic, even with the old craft.
When Urionk takes them through with Dahlly2, every nerve of Harnzon’s body lights afire. The skin of his skull feels as if it might peel away in shreds as Urionk works her skilled mind over the glowing deck-dash, careening them through twists, turns, and loops. What’s more is she does all this and yet, dares to steady him on the vasser plate, taking his left two hands into her right. Unbelievable.
Harnzon wants to try, but taking Urionk’s hand on his first attempt would likely reap disaster. Of course, he won’t need to prove himself to that degree anyway, since she will be tending the samples, ensuring their security.
The pale one is talking again. Harnzon enjoys the intellect of this one, very sharp for a Blublot3 being. It’s a teacher of the light source and is actually very close to understanding the life givers. Of course, no one on Blublot3 can fully comprehend the existence of the light source. Not at this phase of their development, which is little better than an advanced amoeba at this point. Harnzon expects it will take the near mass destruction of their species before full comprehension occurs. If Blublot2 is any indication, two more of their world wars should do it. Not three, though. It was the fifth world war that killed off every living thing on Blublot2.
Harnzon would hate for that to happen here. He has a bet with Urionk that this planet will out-survive Blublot4 by a millennium. Which is a tricky wager since that species was given a boost on their startup. They started with the current brain development that Blublot 3 species had to evolve over millions of years. But Harnzon cannot say that it was that much of an advantage in the long run. There are no tacos on Blublot4, still.
Harnzon refocuses on the movement on his split-view screen as the sluggish challenger appears. Oh, how he delights in this one’s determination. Not nearly as brilliant as the light source teacher, nor as… Well, she simply is determined, despite the circumstances in which she exists. One teaches light source knowledge with depth, flare, and intelligence. So close to an ascension to the next level, that she will likely take several followers with her. Advancement for the species. High value.
Yet, perseverance is also high value, and honestly, Harnzon favors this one so much. In his mind he can see her passing all the tests and becoming a valuable teacher on Blublot1. She would revive what their own species has lost over the eons of evolution. Passion.
Beep-beep, beep-beep.
The sound comes from the helm. Urionk’s gadget obtained from their 13 visitations. Her reflection comes into view on the TVM screen. She holds the small white globe with black dashes and numerals like an announcement. Harnzon rolls his third eye and grumbles without turning around.
“I thought your chicken timer was destroyed on the last navigation through Xrisis.”
“Egg timer. I fixed it. Lose spring was the malfunction.” Urionk sets it on his deckdash. “Your selection.”
Harnzon takes a long draw of air, fluttering all the gillwings across his neck into throat-song. The sound returns the memory of a wonderous Blublot3 flute player Harnzon had selected on their seventeenth visitation. A mistake on his part. He had been so entranced by the beauty of the samples music play, that he failed to realize it was useless to the Vixenth.
Harnzon turns to Urionk. “Sample one. The light source teacher.”
Urionk’s eyes bulge. “You are certain.”
“Yes.” Harnzon nods, then compelled to explain his reasoning, he adds, “She is the embodiment of light source, and on Blublot1 will make a precious and adept pet for the offspring. She can speak to them within their field of understanding. And her golden hair will be sheared quarterly and braided into lucky charms. High value.
“It is settled. We have three hundred samples as soon as you engage the TMV. We are even. No winner or loser once you bring it aboard. We’ll toss Cheetos for the return trip through Xrisis. Whoever catches three in a row wins.”
“What? I understood the wager was already lost to me. I did not reach my allotted one hundred and fifty specimens before you.”
Urionk winked her third eye and drew a song through her gillwings. “Ah, yes. You misunderstood, again.”
A thrill of shivers ran through Harnzon’s organs, sending a thrumming around his eighth chamber. He quickly turned away, lest something be revealed. A few taps on the screen’s side panel and it began to glow and hum, but nothing happened. Harnzon tried again with the same result. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then tapped the screen once more. Nothing.
Urionk leaned over the dash. “Problem, Captain Harnzon?” She was so close he could feel the electricity vibrating from her undercurrents.
Harnzon’s tongue slashed out and back into his mouth involuntarily too quickly for much notice. Urionk would, though. Nothing slipped past her, and that was a loss of face for him. A tiny tear in his eighth chamber.
“The TVM is malfunctioning. I cannot retrieve her.”
“Let me see it.” Urionk leaned down closer to him causing a dizzying effect for Harnzon. “No. There is no malfunction. You have made a bad selection.”
“What do you mean? This has never happened before. A bad selection must go through the tests before it can be deemed.”
Urionk turned her face to his. “You have failed in your quest, Harnzon. I am surprised you did not realize, she is computer generated.”
“The other then,” Harnzon said quickly, reaching for the TVM.
“No. You made your final choice. I will pilot us back to Blublot1.”
Harnzon’s eyes narrowed, glaring at the screen and his mistake.
“Do not look back in anger. Take my hand, your voyage through Xrisis will be as gonzornic as always. I make no mistakes for you.” Urionk smiled.
Thank you for reading this little short story, and thanks to MJ Polk’s Stories from the Jukebox for this week’s prompt - a song from the group OASIS “Don’t Look Back in Anger”. See the newsletter and prompt info
