-SALOON AT THE EDGE OF EVERYWHERE-

Chapter Twenty Four

Rufus threw himself forward at the pirate even as he heard the clicking and whipping sounds, and knew he was too late. He had also forgotten he was more or less stuck to the floor, and so he fell forward and felt his hands sink into the thick, gooey glue. This is like playing twister on a very large piece of flypaper, he thought dismally.

He struggled to free himself even as he screamed at the Wasp Whip, “Stop it! Stop shooting! What the hell are you doing?”

When Ssseeeet saw the gun swinging back towards him, he knew somehow that the pirate intended to use it. He made a high-pitched keening sound and flipped himself over onto his side with his back facing Beeltee and the gun, and curled himself into a banana- shape. He was like a shallow, hollow ‘u’, with the open end towards Frodo and Asa.

Frodo heard the warning, an ancient signal of danger, used by the Muccassim since early in their development, and he reacted instantly, as the Helper-Friends had learned to do through the ages. The damp forests of their home world had been full of dangers, and beset by predators of all kinds. But there was a reason why the Helper-Friends had formed a coalition with the larger Slugs, as the humans called them. The Slugs had always been their protectors in exchange for the Helper’s services. It was pure instinct that drew Frodo to this sanctuary when danger threatened. Without even knowing the reason for the warning given by Ssseeeet, Frodo grabbed Asa with all four hands around his legs and pulled him over on top of himself. Then he wrapped four arms around the sticky human’s body, and he rolled them both into the protective curve of the Slug’s belly.

Here is a fact you may not know about the Muccassim. They are actually descended from creatures that at one time had a formidably tough shell into which they could completely withdraw. As they had conquered the hazards of their prehistoric environment and begun to advance to tools and technology, the shells had withdrawn into them. However, under the slimy skins of their backs, there still ran the boney base plate of this vanished appendage, segmented to allow flexibility, but retaining its original toughness.

Ssseeeet could feel the short burst of hot, sharp shards of wire as they chewed up his back, and it did sting quite a bit. But the ancient residual shell still served its primary function of protecting the vital organs of the Slug’s body.

Now Ssseeeet was mad. And he was still drunk.

Rufus was straining his neck to look up at the tall alien, and he felt tears in his eyes.  He screamed, “I was trying to save you! You and your friends, you idiot! But you just couldn’t let it go.” It was no satisfaction to Rufus that Beeltee looked horrified by what he had just done. He wiggled one hand free. The glue seemed to be losing some of its stickiness as time went by.

“It was you!” screamed the pirate Captain. “You couldn’t let it go. Who asked you to butt in anyway? We would have been gone by now, and no one was going to get hurt.” He was still screaming over the shrill voice of his mother, but it seemed as if he might be close to tears as well.

Rufus got his other hand free and reached an
awkward crouching position. “Maybe you’re right,” he moaned. “I just wanted this all to end. I didn’t want those kids you call a pirate crew to get hurt either. The pity mixed with self-pity in Rufus’s voice caused Beeltee to flinch.

That was when a stream of nasty brown juice hit Beeltee right in the face.

“Ah, it burns,” gurgled the pirate Captain, waving the gun in the air while trying to wipe his face with his other arm tip. Another blast of brown spray splashed his upper torso and he yelled again.

Rufus twisted his neck around and saw Ssseeeet, very much alive. The Slug was reared up to his full height, and appeared to be projectile vomiting with a force and accuracy that would have greatly impressed any college frat boy back on Earth.

The voice of Beeltee’s mother was cut off, and Mr. Toad spoke through the speakers. “Mr. Beeltee,” said Mr. Toad politely, “that liquid is a digestive fluid. It is rather caustic and perhaps toxic as well. I do not know enough about your biology to know for sure. But I strongly suggest that you wash it off immediately, especially from around your eyes and mouth.”

Beeltee was swinging the gun wildly as if he had forgotten it. It came close enough for Rufus to grab it with two very sticky hands. After that it felt to him as if he were arm wrestling a large anaconda with his feet nailed to the floor. No, it was more like tug-of-war he decided, and adjusted his leverage and center mass accordingly. Somehow he overbalanced the taller alien, and the pirate Captain fell face first in the goo. He had even ended up with the pirate’s gun in his hands, Rufus noticed with amazement.

Jeetar stood unnoticed on Mainstreet. From where he stood he had a good view of the events as they happened, from his Captain shooting at the three unarmed aliens, to the literal fall of his leader. Now the Captain was down, and the human had his gun.

Jeetar had a gun also, but it was an old gun of human manufacture, and he had never fired it. The Rufus human had a much better weapon, but he didn’t know Jeetar was even there. Jeetar didn’t want to shoot anybody, but what he wanted even less was to get in a shootout with the dangerous and tricky Rufus.

He pulled the gun from his belt, holding it awkwardly in the tip of his arm, and pointed it at the human who had caused his Captain so much aggravation. He was disappointed that his arm was shaking. He squinted down the barrel of the strange little gun with the revolving cylinder till it was pointed in the right direction. Rufus was turned sideways to him, and still didn’t know he was there. He tightened up his nerves even as he tightened his arm tip on the trigger. He could still turn the tide of this strange series of events.

“Come on,” he told himself, “you can do this.”

The speakers had at last gone silent, and that was why Jeetar suddenly became aware of a loud, bellowing roar. And it was getting louder. And closer? He looked to his left and let out a childish squeal. Charging across Mainstreet straight towards him was one of those strange tree-like aliens. And it looked mad. When the creature’s lower tentacles hit the sticky trail of the Whalepede Jeetar had a brief moment of hope, but that quickly turned to dust. The bizarre and terrifying being never even slowed down. His tentacles just ripped the gluey stuff right off the floor to drag behind him.

Screw this, Jeetar thought to himself. It was one of his favorite human sayings. “I give up,” he yelled, and flung the gun away even as he wrapped his arms protectively around his head. He wasn’t at all sure if the alien cared if he had surrendered or not, but the intimidating figure came to a halt just a pace away.

“You are my prisoner,” said the brand new Xxo.

“Whatever you say,” assured the recently retired pirate.

2^nd Lt. Mathew Sarota gave a hand signal, and two of his Marines moved forward in a crouching walk and started to make their way down the boarding ramp. They swept their rifles side to side, scanning for targets. One stopped and knelt, and the other kept moving forward under the cover provided by his squad mate.

The point man was a young 19 year-old on his first deployment after basic training. He began to see a varied assortment of legs and lower appendages appearing at the end of the tilted ramp. He had no way of knowing who these limbs belonged to, either hostages or hostiles. He kept his finger lightly on the trigger as his training dictated. He stopped and knelt down to provide cover, and signaled his partner forward.

As his fellow Marine came up even with him, the owners of the mixed appendages finally took notice of them, and a cheer began to build. And it kept on building.

The young private and the rest of the Marines had been briefed, but only briefly. Armed hostiles and cowering hostages, the manual covered these situations. The Marines were supposed to burst into the lounge, yelling at everyone to get down on the floor and then shoot anyone who didn’t. The noise and pointed rifles, coupled with the surprise, were supposed to allow the Marines to take control. It all seemed so simple in the training exercises. Once every living thing in the room was lying on the floor, alive or otherwise, the Marines would begin searching everyone for weapons and securing whatever hostiles still had a pulse. The worst things that were supposed to be able to happen were if the terrorists tried to mix in with the hostages, or if some of the hostages got shot in the confusion, either by suicidal hostiles, or, heaven forbid, by one of the Marines themselves.

What the Marines had no way of knowing was that there were hundreds of hostages, and only one pirate in the huge room that had a gun. That meant that the best-armed pirate, who was way over by the door on the other side of the room, couldn’t possibly see what was happening on the other side of the room. He couldn’t see the Marines, and they couldn’t see him or his less-well armed crewmates.

What this all led to was a strange mixed atmosphere as the hostages on the Marine’s side suddenly felt as if they had already been rescued, while the hostages closer to the pirates still assumed their ordeal to be ongoing. The pirates heard the cheering and sensed that something was amiss, but they didn’t know what it was. They glared at the hostages standing nearby, but those hostages didn’t know what was happening either. It was all quite confusing.