Prime Cudgel

Tara tied her hair into an afro puff. At least with her new job she wouldn’t have to try to corral her hair into a hat. She preferred the “no-makeup” look at work. Anyone who knows, knows what it takes to look “natural.”

Colored moisturizer, a bit of concealer matching her warm, light brown skin to hide the shadows under her green eyes from lack of sleep, a little mascara, and a light lip and she was ready. Her phone chimed and she picked it up.

The face on the other end had just woken up, thinning gray hair unkempt, the wrinkles around his blue eyes met with pillow lines that continued down his pale face to his permanently ruddy cheeks. Tara made sure she looked presentable in her camera before connecting.

“Dad, it’s two-thirty in the morning! Why are you calling?”

“I just wanted to tell you I love you, and I’m proud of you…and I’ll miss you.”

Tara smiled. “Dad, we said all that last night. You didn’t have to get up just to tell me that.”

“I know, but I wanted to see you before you left. Oh, and you said you’d send a picture in your uniform.”

She snorted. “You don’t have enough of me in my police uniforms?”

“This is different,” he said, “and I want to see your space suit.”

Tara shook her head. “It’s not like that, Dad. Here, I’ll show you.” She propped the phone against the wall and stepped back. She wore a black, long-sleeved pullover, black tactical pants, and her police boots.

“That’s just your police uniform without the body armor and jacket,” he said.

“One sec, Dad.” She picked up a vest from the dresser and slipped it on. It was neon chartreuse with several pockets, a name tape that said “Missions Tara,” and one below that said the same but in an alien script. She turned to show the back, where the word “SECURITY” in both English and the alien script made up the design.

“Wait,” he said, “you aren’t wearing body armor?”

“Dad, no-one’s going to be shooting at me on a spaceship.”

“I would just feel better—”

“I know. That’s why I’m bringing it anyway. At least while we’re in dock, I’ll probably wear it. Same goes for my sidearm.” She picked up the phone. “They’re letting me bring it, even though I won’t be able to use it on the ship…ever.”

“But if it comes down to it—”

“Dad, think about it for a minute. A nine-millimeter slug, versus the skin of a spaceship, in the vacuum of space.”

“Oh…yeah. So, what will you use?”

She strapped on her duty belt and pointed at the plastic device holstered near her hip. “Still have a taser and baton, and they have a beanbag rifle for the really tough cases.”

“Will that be enough for the aliens? What if you run into—?”

“The xenomorphs from Alien aren’t real. You know what the real aliens — the Elarians — look like, they’ve been on the news for months.”

“I know, but I worry. And that thing in your head—”

“It’s just under the skin behind my ear, not in my brain, and it’s a standard translator. Dad, I’m not worried. Most of the aliens are from lower gravity worlds like the Elarians, meaning their bones are likely to be more fragile than ours, and we have them seriously overpowered in strength. You should worry about what Mom’s gonna do if you fall asleep at Meemaw’s birthday cookout today.”

“Oof, yeah. How’d you get so smart?”

“My cop father was just smart enough to marry a geneticist…so it’s mostly Mom, but I’ll give you two percent credit.”

“Brat.” He yawned. “Give ’em hell, Pumpkin.”

“Love you, too, Dad. Go back to sleep.” She ended the call and checked the time. Her ride to the space port would be pulling up within the minute. She rushed out with her suitcase, locking the door behind her, to meet her ride.

—

It took nine minutes to reach low-Earth orbit, and only six for the alien freighter to match speed with the shuttle and dock. Tara floated into the airlock and released the straps on her suitcase. One of the regular crew handed her the vacuum sealed bag that contained the clothes she’d been wearing.

“What about this?” she asked, tapping the helmet of the vacuum suit she was buttoned up in.

“You keep that,” the crewman said. “It’s included in the price your employer paid to get you here. Besides, you’ll need it for reentry when you come back, and you’ll have it just in case….”

“Right.”

The crewman locked the inside of the airlock, and Tara waited for the outer door to open. She didn’t know what to expect, but she was glad of the suit just in case it turned into an unplanned spacewalk.

The airlock on the other side of the door was too clean, too smooth, too perfect to be real. She held her suitcase and bag of clothes in one hand, pulling herself into the other airlock with a reverential slowness.

As soon as she was fully inside, the human shuttle’s door disappeared as the wall just…materialized…where it had been an open hole. A voice sounded in the airlock, “Disengaged from shuttle, prepare for gravity in 5…4…3…”

Tara scrambled to get as close to the floor as possible, only to bounce off the wall to the actual floor when the gravity kicked in, ninety degrees from where she’d thought “down” was. It wasn’t anything like the gee-forces she’d felt in ascent or even half of Earth gravity, but it did settle her nerves compared to weightlessness.

The inner door opened or rather, a hole appeared in the wall. Beyond was not nearly as spotless as the airlock had been. A well-worn path in the center of the hallway showed where foot traffic had passed for years. Small pads on the wall, about shoulder-height for Tara, showed the sort of burnishing that comes from years of hands or other appendages pressing on them.

She was trying to figure out how to remove her helmet when two of the Elarians approached. One stepped behind her and began by releasing the catch so she could lift it off. The other stood in front of her, two large arms shouldered behind two smaller, hands with four fingers and no obvious thumbs at the ends of each, though Tara had seen them on the news enough to know the outside digits could move into an opposable position.

It was a female of the species, slightly larger than the males, with pale, butter-yellow skin sporting light grey blotches. Four eyes that were mostly pupil, the two larger on the outside of the two smaller near the center of the face. No visible nostrils or ear holes, but a wide mouth with flat teeth in the front, and heavy grinding teeth to the rear.

She spread her two inner arms and gave a slight bow, still head and shoulders taller than Tara. “Welcome, Missions Tara, I am Prime Advisor Achilokila Priviiatik, but you may call me ‘Privi,’ short for my given name. May I call you Tara?”

Tara lifted off her helmet. “You may, Privi. So, uh…what is Prime Advisor?”

“I am second in command to the Ship Speaker…you call it Captain, yes?”

Tara nodded but was finding it difficult to catch her breath. “Yes. That would make you the First Officer or Executive Officer — XO — then.”

“Ah! That’s the term. As the Prime Cudgel — head of security — you will report to me.”

The one who had loosened her helmet stepped into view holding a small pack with a canula. Half a head shorter than Privi, with similar markings but a greener cast to his skin. “Put this in your nostrils. It will deliver oxygen at the level you need. I am Ship Medic Achilokila Proviatun, younger brother to Privi. You may call me ‘Provi’ if you wish.”

Tara took the offered tube and Provi helped her get it situated. Within a few breaths, she was feeling more normal. “Thank you, Provi. If one of you could show me to my quarters, I can get out of this vacuum suit and back into uniform.”

Privi nodded at her brother, and he said, “Follow me.”

With her first step, she fell forward and almost knocked the tall creature down. “Whoa! Sorry. It’ll take some getting used to,” she said.

After getting to her room, wriggling out of the suit, and getting dressed, she was getting a feel for how lightly to step. She stowed her gear, attached the small box-like device that delivered oxygen to her utility belt, and met Provi, still waiting for her in the hall. “Now we shall meet the…Cat-pin?”

“Captain.”

“Ah, Captain.” He led her to a common area that included places to cook, eat, and lounge. A female even larger than Privi was sprawled in a hammock, one of her small hands holding a device while the other small hand navigated the holograph above it. One of her large hands pushed off the wall in a rhythm that kept the hammock moving in a lazy swing.

“Hello, Cap—Ship Speaker. I’m Tara Missions…I mean Missions Tara.”

The hand that had been pushing off the wall grabbed it, stopping the swing. She sat up and looked down at Tara. “Welcome aboard the Full Pouch, Prime Cudgel Missions Tara. I am Ship Speaker Chiloka Chikurik. Your duties will be to organize and manage the station guards for the ship and cargo while in port, and provide assistance where needed around the ship. Beyond that, we hope to never need your assistance.”

Provi and another alien that had been silently eating in the room both shouted out, “Pirates be gone! Void take you!”

Chikurik laughed. “Correct. However, if we do need your assistance, I have it on good authority that you know how to use that?” she asked, pointing at an orange shotgun on the wall.

“Beanbag shotgun. Less-lethal weapon. Know it very well.”

“I used it once and damaged my shoulder. Humans call this a ‘less-lethal’ weapon?”

“Yes, ma’am. Although, if used improperly, it can still kill.”

Chikurik laughed again. “If used improperly, she says! This thing blows holes in the carapace of Gerlash pirates, but only dents the ship. Busts up the insides of Elarians and Salamars. It’s perfect.”

Tara cocked her head in surprise. “It…blows holes in them? I thought humans were fragile, but it almost never penetrates or busts up your innards.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Rarely, and only if fired too close. When used properly, it leaves a bruise, when used improperly it can break bones — or kill if hit in the head or neck for example — but unlike a regular round, it won’t go through a human.”

Chikurik crossed the room and lifted a flexible club with her large hands. It was obvious that it was heavy. “This is the ceremonial cudgel that is awarded to Prime Cudgel on each ship. Only the strongest could wield it effectively, but we have better tools now.”

Tara grabbed the handle of the cudgel and gave it a few practice swings with one hand. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it being floppy but hung it from her belt near her baton. “Thank you, Ship Speaker.”

“You aren’t expected to carry that ancient thing. It’s just a rite of passage.”

“Thank you again.”

“And that thing on your belt, what is that?” Chikurik asked, pointing.

“Taser, another less-lethal weapon. It shoots out two prongs that deliver fifty kilovolts — results in 1200 volts to the body at around two milliamps — so, twenty or so 100-millisecond bursts per second. It disrupts muscle signals in the body and hurts like hell.”

Chikurik’s hand flew over the holographic interface in front of her. “That’s…eighteen thousand four hundred…. By the First Mother’s pouch! That doesn’t kill you?”

“Nah. I’ve been hit with one of these bad boys twelve times now — every year during recertification — no lasting effects.”

“Well, Prime Cudgel Missions Tara, just don’t ever point either of those things at me…and keep that Taser thing away from the controls. I think we may just be safe from the pirates for sure now.”

“Pirates be gone! Void take you!” the two others called out again.

“Pirates flee! We have a human Prime Cudgel!” Chikurik called out.

“I’m curious, though,” Tara said.

“About what?”

“Why did you go out of your way to hire a human? I mean, we’re just now starting to trade for goods from you, and we won’t be accepted into your Trade Alliance proper until we develop our own FTL, now that we know it’s possible.”

The Ship Speaker stood tall above Tara and held her chin with one of her small hands. “Because, little one, I guessed that a creature from a high gravity world would be tough, and it seems I was right. You’re probably built pretty dense, too.” She grabbed Tara with her large arms and tried to lift her but could only get her to her tip-toes.

Tara laughed and spread her arms. “May I?”

Chikurik nodded, and Tara wrapped an arm around her hips and lifted her with one hand. In the light gravity on the ship, it felt like lifting a small child.

“Pirates flee! We have a human Prime Cudgel!” the two others called out.

“Yeah!” Tara yelled, as she set Chikurik down. “You pirates better run!”