The Merman and the Moon Forgotten

Eleven • The Good Life





The air conditioner grumble covered the soft shuffle of seven kids and one middle-aged man slinking their way through the empty halls of the Interplanetary Shuttle Station.

Grand slipped out a green card. “Kings will invite you to dinner, but janitors will get you into the storehouse.” Grand raised his eyes, scanning for anything familiar. “Mason Interplanetary Shuttle. Gate B15 . . . Ah, there ya are. Wait here by the counter now. Stay to the ground.”

Nick nodded.

“Oh, one other thing Nikolas,” said Grand.

“Yeah.”

Grand pointed a flashlight to a small obsidian stone. “I’ll need a co-pilot to activate the doorway while I fly the shuttle. May I entrust you with the chronostone?”

“Sure!” Nick caught himself, and whispered again. “Sure.”

“That’s a good lad. I’ve written the spell on the piece of paper. Once the potion inside is released, it will mix with the sunlight and open the gate.”

Nick slipped the chronostone into the pocket of his khaki shorts.

This all struck him as crazy weird. A magical stone lay at the bottom of his khakis, among some tissues and an old pack of gum. But that wasn’t the only thing he felt. It was there when Grand asked him to take his place as steward. . . .

Responsibility.

“All right. Need to see about overriding some pass codes to the shuttle. Stay on the ground.” Grand moved into the shadows.

Everyone else grunted to their knees and crawled blindly until they found the service counter. Xanthus’ holo-glasses clicked, flashing two red lights. He reentered the world of Magicgeddon.

“Careful, Haley,” Tim said. “The counter’s right here. Just ten feet in front of you.”

“I know that’s not your hand touching mine,” Haley warned.

“No,” Tim cleared his throat. “No. My hand is not touching yours.”

Nick heard those familiar motherly sounds of purse straps and flats. “Hey, Caroline.”

“Hungry?” Caroline said. Nick’s eyes adjusted enough to see Caroline’s maternal nod.

“Hungry? I’m a hormonally-induced food receptacle. When am I ever not hungry?” Nick smiled.

“Always with the smiles.” She opened her beige purse and fumbled through a jumble of pencils, notepads, and sewing kits. In the event of a plane crash, Nick was convinced Caroline’s bag would double as a flotation device.

“Peach, blueberry or chocolate?” said Caroline.

“Um, chocolate.”

“Dark chocolate, milk chocolate or white chocolate?”

Nick blinked.

“Have to make sure there are plenty of options for the boys. Daniel really likes white chocolate when he’s researching, multi-grain blueberry granola when he’s thinking. And Xanthus . . . well, he just likes to eat. I bet you’re a dark chocolate kinda boy?”

“Yeah. Love me some dark chocolate.”

Without even looking down, Caroline plunged her hands deep in the purse and retrieved a Mr. Good Crunch dark chocolate bar. He grabbed the chocolate bar from her hands and tore into it.

“Thanks.” Nick’s salivary glands were already firing up.

“Tim’s into Haley, isn’t he?”

Nick thought about blowing off the question, but Caroline wasn’t really asking.

“I hope he doesn’t get hurt,” said Caroline. “Did you hear about the Christopher McCaffrey incident, Nikolas?”

Nick shook his head, as the dark chocolate and caramel started to gum up his teeth.

“Christopher McCaffrey lived in perimeter 415. He liked Haley a lot, and I mean a lot. Wrote her a love ballad. Well, actually just played Guitar Champion for her, and changed some of the words up. Think it was Metallica’s “Wherever I May Roam.” His version was “My Love is like the Colorado Superdome.” She wasn’t very kind to him at all. Or the guitar. Or the pavement.”

“I think Tim is just trying to wait her out. You know, wear her down,” Nick said, choking down a stray peanut.

Caroline didn’t respond immediately. She gingerly peeled off the wrapper of a white chocolate bar and broke off a piece just big enough to fit between her fingers. “You don’t know her very well. Do you, Nikolas?”

“Sure I do,” Nick said. “People aren’t that hard to understand. Haley hates love. Brandy loves fashion. Tim’s a wuss. Daniel: evil scientist. Xanthus: dragon nerd. And you: good cook.”

Nick saw pain behind Caroline’s horn-rimmed glasses.

“People aren’t cut-outs you know.” She closed her purse.

Nick felt his own stomach bottom out. “I know—I—just, sometimes, we make everything too complicated, you know. Just keep it simple, keep life simple. Why do you think I want to get off this planet so bad?”

“Anyway—” Caroline chose to abandon that line of conversation. “—I just don’t want Tim to get hurt. Haley doesn’t know how to let boys like her. I suspect that’s why she’s into martial arts—to keep boys away. We’re from Seattle, you know, and our lives weren’t much better before the refugee camp, either. My father died in a boating accident when Mom was pregnant with Brandy. I was two, Nikolas. I don’t even remember him. I do remember all of Mom’s boyfriends, though. Lots and lots of boyfriends. Coffee shop workers, restaurant managers, fishermen. I didn’t mind them too much when they weren’t drinking, but Haley, well, she hated them all, and hated Mom for having them. Always got into arguments, accusing Mom of choosing her boyfriends over us. Mom said she needed the help, couldn’t get through life alone. Mom and Dad married straight out of high school. She won Miss Teen Washington that year, and it was the last job she ever had. Mom was very pretty, you know. They said I have her ears.” Caroline paused.

“Um. Nice ears.” Nick guessed at the non-verbal cue.

“Thank you very much, Nikolas. Anyway, I made a mistake. I told Haley she looked just like Mom, that she was really pretty and would have all the boyfriends she ever needed. I was twelve then. She was thirteen. Haley was angry, and I think it made Brandy a little jealous, too, which makes sense, if you know Brandy. Anyway, Haley wouldn’t talk to me for a month. It would have been longer Nikolas, except that’s when Mom died of the virus . . .”

Caroline’s voice trailed off.

“Hmm,” Caroline cleared her voice. “Anyway. Just a hint to Tim. Don’t try to help her—”

Daniel waved, then pounded the floor. Everyone froze.

Red lights swirled across the ceiling. All heads turned to the counter, looking for the source. A metallic antenna edged over the counter.

“Mmmmm,” Brandy whimpered.

They did their best to shrivel into the plastic floor.

The antenna was followed by a flat disc, bordered in flashing red lights. The antennas probed the sky, tapped the counter, and stopped.

“MMMMMM,” Brandy’s whimper upgraded.

“Nick Lyons?” the drone said.

“Yeah . . .” Nick said slowly.

“I am with the Colorado Spaceport’s Medical Emergency unit. Due to a lack of concern for other life forms and a propensity toward violent behavior, I am to administer the neural inhibitor, R-5235—”

“Aw geez.” Nick pushed himself from the counter.

Suddenly, the metal antennas egg-beated the air and retreated.

“Where did it go?” said Brandy. “What’d you do Nick?”

A warm drop plopped on Nick’s hand. Everyone’s eyes moved back to the counter. The antennas returned, but the rest of the ambudrone was trapped between a row of canine teeth. The mouth unhinged and squeezed the ambudrone down. Flashing red lights were the last to be seen.

Gunk. Gunk. Gunk. A membrane crown unfolded behind its ears.

“REEEIGGHH!!” The scuccas lifted to their hind legs.

“They found us,” Grand yelled. “To the shuttle!”

Grand had suddenly appeared with a massive battle axe. Where from? Nick couldn’t tell, but there were more pressing matters. Like how fast could he make it to the shuttle while maintaining all bodily functions. Everyone flung themselves through the door, down the steps, and onto the tarmac. There, off in the distance was a lone shuttle with the title: “Mason.” Nick charged ahead, reached the stairway first, and flew up with his fist aimed for the access button.

Access denied.

Access denied.

Access denied.

Access denied.

“Keycard. Keycard. Grand has it!” Nick turned to the spaceport. On cue, glass exploded followed by a mass of trench coat and battle axe flying through the midnight air. Grand tumbled inches from the shuttle. He groaned and fell unconscious.

“Get the card! Grand’s keycard. It’s green.” Nick pointed. Haley and Xanthus were already trolling through pockets.

The scuccas fumbled through the new opening.

“Here.” Haley pressed it into Nick’s shaking hand.

Beep. Beep. Access granted. Welcome, Mr. Lyons.

“Get inside. Now!” Nick commanded.

Hands grabbed for Grand and the axe. With much heaving and iron scraping, they rolled him through the hatchway and tumbled in themselves. Nick punched the door closed symbol.

BAAANGH! Several bulges emerged from the other side of the door. The scuccas had rammed the hull.

“We need to call the police, Nick.” Tim tried to catch his breath.

Talons started to rake the hull, looking for any sign of weakness.

“Nick?” said Haley, wiping Grand’s blood off her cheek. “What are we gonna do?”

BAAANGH! BAAANGH! They rammed again.

“Nick, the police?” said Tim.

Nick scanned the shuttle. Fear was on everyone’s face as they listened to three monstrous freaks clawing at the hull. Nick looked down to Grand. He wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. Come on, Grand. What are we supposed to do?

“Police, Nick?” Tim said.

Suddenly, Nick understood.

This was all on him.

Nick got to his feet and looked to the front of the shuttle.

“Police, Nick?” Tim repeated.

“Move.” Nick pressed Tim to one side.

“Are you listening to me?”

Control panels lit at the presence of a human. Hello. Welcome to the Mason.

BAAANGH! The shuttle rocked.

The control board was a dizzying array of gauges and lights. After a few scans, Nick found a hexagon-shaped disc with a green light emanating from it. He pressed his hand on it.

It blinked in red letters: Access denied. Retinal verification required.

Nick stood straight, flicking a stray bit of hair away. There was a small circle with one digital eye. He looked back at Haley, and then Grand. She read his mind. They picked up Grand by his massive shoulders and lifted him to the retinal scanner. It was strange handling his grandfather’s head like some bearded football, but he didn’t really have a choice. Nick pried an eyelid open, revealing an unfixed pupil. The retinal system began to scan.

Welcome, Mr. Lyons, to the Mason Transworld Shuttle. Forgive me for asking, but you seem a bit peakish. Are you feeling well this evening? Ibuprofen perhaps?

Grand’s chin bobbled to his chest.

BAAANGH! BAAANGH! The scuccas continued to search for the hull’s weakness.

“Nick!” Tim yelled. “Are you listening to me? Grand’s unconscious or worse. We’re trapped. How’re we getting out of here?”

Nick tried to subdue the small rise of his cheek, but it was mutinous.

“Hey—Are you smiling? You’re thinking something, Nick.”

“I have an idea.”

“Idea? What do you mean, idea?” Tim took in the scene playing out in front of him. “No!”

“I’m gonna fly it.”

“No, you’re not. Seriously, Nick, you can’t fly a space shuttle.”

“It’s easy. I’ve played Maverick Seven like a hundred times. It’s an exact replica of this. Look, Grand told me I was responsible for everyone. I have to do something.”

“Responsible?” Tim smacked his head. “Where does a fourteen-year-old flying a commercial shuttle fit into responsible? Tell him, Daniel. This is insane.”

“Yes. It would be advisable that Nick keeps a safe distance from all technological devices, but I am in full support in the given situation. He has accrued many hours on the holobox, suggesting that he has the skills to fly the shuttle. But I’m not blindly optimistic. I’d say there’s a strong chance one of us will die. I would wager that it would be you, Tim. Your heightened fear in an emergency situation like this would lead you to make irrational decisions. And your motor skills are below average for a fourteen-year-old boy.”

“Hey. I’m a human being, not one of your statistics, you freaky cyborg!” Tim snapped.

Nick yelled over the two, “Maverick Seven? Anyone played? I need a co-pilot.”

“I have!” Xanthus sprung from his seat.

“Look. This is real!” Tim banged on the cockpit ceiling. “This isn’t a video game or some crazy invention. This is a real GPS! That’s a real ion fuel gauge to real ion fuel. And we could all be blown to REAL blubbering, smoldering pieces!”

“What’s your ranking?” Nick said to Xanthus with both hands behind his back.

“Sir, Sergeant General. 5th Class, sir!” Xanthus held a salute.

“Level?”

BAAANGH! BAAANGH! BAAANGH!

Xanthus rocked to his knees, but held his salute. “Sir, Andromeda Mission, sir!”

“You recognize the shuttle then, Sergeant?” Nick nodded to the control panel.

“Sir. This is a Class C, twin ion engine. Full interplanetary travel, but limited interstellar. Stick is a little touchy, sir!”

“All right, co-pilot Kobayashi, take a seat.”

Both boys sat down.

“Did you beat the Andromeda mission, Sergeant General 5th Class?” Tim said.

“Pshh. Dude, not any harder than the Belton level . . . The landing is always a little interesting.”

“Again, I ask. Did you beat it?”

“Security!” Xanthus called.

Haley put Tim in a choke hold. “Let’s go.”

“No. No. No. No!” Tim’s feet grabbed the door frame, chairs, shuttle wall, Daniel.

Caroline’s whispery voice cut through the pandemonium. “Nikolas.”

“Yes, Caroline?” Nick looked back.

“We’re here because we trust you.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” said Haley, throwing Tim into the back row. “Mom made me promise to look after my kid sisters, so no crashing and burning and screams of death. OK?”

“Right.” Nick nodded and tapped the passenger door.

“We’re all going to di—” The door muted Tim’s cry of death.

“I got this,” Nick nodded. “I’ve beaten the Andromeda level. Twice.”

“Really? No way! No one beats Andromeda! I got a T-shirt that says it. I am now submitting your name to Perlock’s Mythological Bestiary, 30th edition. Entry title: Epicness.” Xanthus announced while punching several buttons. The shuttle began to slowly rise, pointing its nose skyward.

BAAANGH! BAAANGH! Nick looked to the perimeter cameras. The scuccas clamored around the body, trying to slip their talons into any available crack.

“All right, co-pilot Kobayashi. Systems check complete?”

“Complete. O’ Captain.”

“The clamps?”

Xanthus had one hand on the seat and another reaching for a blue switch.

All right,” Nick announced. “Starting initiation sequence now. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven—”

BAAANGH! BAAANGH! BAAANGH!

“Sixfivefourthreetwoone!” Nick punched the blue launch button.

The boys nodded to each other as the shuttle rumbled to life. A fiery orange skirted the windows, setting off monstrous screams.

“Can fire kill them?” said Nick.

“No. Just slows them down,” Xanthus answered.

The kick made both boys square their sights. The stars in their cockpit view trembled, and it began to rise from the ground.

“And we have lift off.” Nick smiled.

“OOOHH—MMAA—MAAAN—NN.” Xanthus’ flabby face was undergoing its own launch sequence. “TT—HHIISSS IISS AAWWWE—SSOSSOME!”

Within minutes the GPS read twenty miles altitude. The panel flashed that the launch sequence would end in fifteen seconds, a cue for Nick and Xanthus to take the controls.

“Almost forgot.” Nick reached into his khaki pocket and pulled out Grand’s chronostone. “The key to the gateway.”

Nick put the stone onto his lap, leaned forward, and grabbed the control stick. It felt metallic and cold, nothing like the holobox version. Nick pulled the stick back, but it kicked out of his grip.

“Hey!” He put his hands up.

A hologram man dressed in a captain’s outfit sprung from the console. “Welcome to your auto-pilot, Mr. Steward Lyons. We have already plotted the course uploaded to your keycard.”

Xanthus moaned, “Auto-pilot.”

The computer displayed a green line arching from Earth to a white square.

“No,” Nick yelled at the hologram. “We’re the pilots. We’re supposed to fly it. I hate this planet!”

The shuttle turned a strong left and towards Moon.

The auto-pilot announced, “Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy this timeless singer from the twentieth century: Tony Bennett.”

A hologram of Tony Bennett began snapping to the beat. “Oooh, the good life. Full of fun, seems to be the ideal . . .”

“Wow,” Xanthus said. “Look at those stars. Never been in space before . . . Hey, Nick.”

“Yeah.”

“Back at the church—something weird happened when your grandpa punched the scucca. His eyes were all nuclear reactor blue. His hands, too.”

“It’s awesome. Grand calls it jynn’us. We all get these mythic powers when we breathe Mon air,” Nick said.

“No way!” Xanthus’ salami arms punched the air.

“I know, right?” said Nick.

“Don’t tease me like that. Are you serious?”

“I’m not kidding. And your jynn’us is supposed to reflect who you are or something. It’s gonna be fun on the other side.”

“Totally agree . . . seriously, those are a lot of stars . . . Hey, bet I’ll get that power where I soak up everyone else’s power. But I won’t be a villain or nothing. I’ll just be like the Sorcerer General over a legion of magical creatures. Yeah. That’d be sweet. Hey, dude. Ten minutes, twelve seconds to vector. Are we supposed to do something?”

“Yeah. Grand gave me a key, but just give me another minute. Need to catch my breath.”

“It’s the good life, to be free, and explore the unknown,” Tony crooned away as the sun’s rays escorted them spaceward.

Nick glanced at the perimeter camera. The American continent was completely shrouded by the cloud cover, but more importantly, the scuccas started to slip from the hull. The first two peeled off, and the third was dragged down until its talons couldn’t hold any longer. His chest deflated.

They’re gone.

Nick grinned. He had to hand it to himself. They launched the shuttle, managed to get away from the monsters, and no one got hurt . . . for the most part. Even if the auto-pilot took away all the fun, at least they made it off Earth. Then it hit him. He looked back at Earth and smiled.

I got away.

And it really wasn’t all that complicated, Nick thought. See, Caroline? Life can be simple. Just keep it simple.

“Oh the good life,” Tony sang on. “Let’s you hide the sadness you fee—”

“Forgive the interruption—” Tony Bennett was replaced by the auto-pilot. “—an uninvited passenger has been detected on the hull.”

WHAMM-CRAKK!! The scucca head-butted the cockpit window.

“Woah!” The boys sat up.

The scucca’s talons anchored into the shuttle, shifting its gaze between the two.

CRAKK!! CRAKK!! CRAKK!! A white thread shot across the cockpit.

“Dude! It can’t breathe out here,” Nick said.

“I know, I know.” Xanthus quickly flipped through his bestiary.

CRAKK!! CRAKK!! A dozen more threads flared.

“It doesn’t breathe oxygen.” Xanthus held up the bestiary. “It lives on scent!”

“What do you mean, scent? You have to have oxygen to breathe scent.”

CRAKK!! Nick’s cockpit view was a net of fractured glass.

“Asteroid repellant!” Nick pointed to Xanthus’ console. It was common for smaller asteroids and space junk to cross paths with interplanetary shuttles.

CRAKK!! CRAKK!! CRAKK!!

“Right.” Xanthus grabbed the trigger. The gun kicked. No sound, just a flash of light and the scucca spinning into the inky void.

Tony Bennett ended a pirouette. “Well, just wake up. Kiss the good life, goodbye. . . .”

The vector sign flashed: 01:53.

“OK,” said Xanthus. “So where is that gate?”

“The key!” Nick almost forgot. “In my lap . . .”

Nick picked up the chronostone and pulled out a piece of paper.

“Oops,” Nick said, holding up the spell, which had somehow wrapped around a stray piece of gum.

Xanthus buried his face in his hands.

“Don’t worry. I got this.” Nick pulled the piece of paper apart, stretching the gum with it. The spell was partially hidden by chewed gum.

Pa—

Nick started to pull bits of gum off the paper.

Pat—

“Forty-two, forty-one, forty,” Xanthus’ voice quivered.

A piece tore with the gum.

Pata—

Nick tried to reattach the ripped piece.

Pata—hu—

Patahu.

“Patahu!” Nick grabbed the stone and shouted, “Patahu!”

The chronostone quaked in his hands and began to burn. Nick dropped it. The stone vibrated, hesitated momentarily, and then glass shattered from within. The cockpit filled with hot, yellow light.

Nick cupped his hands around his face to try and see past the webbed glass. Nothing changed.

“Do you see anything over there?” said Nick.

“No, dude,” said Xanthus. “No expanding vortex. No epic, magical gate. Nothing.”

“Come on, Grand,” Nick groaned.

“Nick,” Xanthus said, “your grandpa is nuts, isn’t he? We’re dead! We’re all dead! The navigation system says we can’t go back now. Not enough fuel. I never even got to kiss Caroline on the mouth.”

Nick turned slowly to Xanthus.

“What? I know you guys think I’m this virtuoso of mythological creatures, but I need love, too!”

Nick’s eyes fell on the trash chute just below Xanthus’ leg.

“Waitasecond!” Nick said. “These shuttles are lined with a UV shield. Grand said the stone interacted with solar light. We have to get the stone outside.”

The chute slid open at the presence of Nick’s hand, and he shoved the chronostone down. They heard rock scraping through the garbage chute. Metal screamed, and the shuttle kicked from the rear.

A reddish wave rolled over the shuttle.

“Wow,” said Xanthus.

“That’s a good sign, right, Nick?” Haley’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“It’s the gateway. Strap yourselves in.”

A shimmering pocket materialized into a bright, conical object. Its walls were lined with thousands of red comets spinning into a magma center. For all Nick knew, the gateway was the building block of the universe, ready to crush the ship into light and heat. They were about to find out.

“Here we go . . .” someone said over the intercom.