Buchanan's Express: Adventures in Intergalatic Trucking

CHAPTER 1

Thirty-year-old Buchanan sat next to her sky blue striped interstellar transport. At present, she was using it for cover. It sat like a pile of useless metal on the desert floor of the planet. The two setting suns caused parts of the arrowhead shaped ship to reflect the evening light onto the sandy surface. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get off the planet. Presently, it seemed too distant a problem for her. She would be speeding toward her payday if the fool shooting at her would let her finish repairs. It’s always something.

The energy pack in her shooter was getting low. A few more bursts and she would be defenseless. The attacker must have wanted her cargo, she thought. Giving it to him would not be a choice since her employer may vaporize her for undelivered goods. She had to get inside for a fully loaded energy pack and cover. Soon, it would be dark and cold. Freezing to death was a possibility if she didn’t get inside.

Her attire consisted of pants, boots, and a short sleeve shirt. The temperature on the planet dropped considerably at night. Her five-foot four frame crawled to the cargo entrance. The unwanted guest continued to fire small, energized stones at her with what looked like a hollow tube. What a stupid weapon she thought. Until one of the stones melted a small hole in the ship’s hull. Damn—more repairs.

Stop shooting at me! she shouted. Let’s talk!

The shooting stopped. A small stocky humanoid form stepped from behind a rock. He couldn’t have been taller than four-foot ten inches. He wore loose fine-looking clothes that hung on him like an emperor. He had no hair, and his complexion reminded her of dried dates. He wore something over his eyes resembling goggles.

Thanks for not shooting me! she told him with extreme gratitude.

Was this guy going to a party? The little guy seemed confident. He wasn’t pointing his weapon at her. Both his arms hung at his side. His bright colored clothes waved with the desert breeze. He strode toward her. It was almost a swagger. His appearance reminded her of the small decorative figures her mother would place in the front yard. So, what would pacify the shooting lawn ornament? It was at that moment the minor dressed-up emperor stopped.

You...sound human! he shouted with a scratchy voice.

She was hoping the small creature wouldn’t be prejudiced against humans. The last alien on the planet she met had a severe problem with her. A big problem. She had to shoot him down—at least she thought it was a ‘him’. When he hit the floor of the small-town tavern where she was drinking, his friends tried to jump her. They also didn’t like humans. Then it turned into gun slinger time. Now with this guy in front of her she was wondering if this encounter was going to be a repeat of the bar episode.

Do you like humans? Buchanan shouted back as she scoped out the terrain. She looked for a way to get back onto her ship.

Without much pause, he told her: Un...certain.

The creature stood pondering with his weapon still in hand. His stillness made her very uneasy. It was clear he didn’t want to shoot anymore. However, what did he want?

Do you have...human liquor...Pint of 80 proof maybe? asked the creature.

Was he joking? In the middle of nowhere with a boozing alien thief. The pint-sized creature wanted a pint of alcohol. This happened to be one of the times she wasn’t transporting any liquor to the outlying desert towns on this planet. Maybe he would settle for something else.

How about some refried beans? she shouted back at the waiting creature. You can have mine.

The alien wasn’t saying much. She wondered if he was even considering it. Maybe he hated beans. The last alien that worked on her ship ate her bath sponge because the creature liked the color.

Refried...feel good...like liquor?

Only if you’re hungry, she responded.

The small shooter looked down at where his stomach had to be. He touched it the way a human would when experiencing hunger pangs. His weapon disappeared. He looked up at where he had been firing and raised his arms. He shouted: Show refried! No more shooting between us!

Buchanan pulled back her long straight black hair from her face. She then slowly poked her head from around her ship. Watching the smiling little guy walking quickly toward her made her grin. Never had she seen someone so excited about refried beans.

Later, after the two had eaten their fill of the beans, they sat across from each other in the ship’s galley. It was a woman’s galley with bright blue cabinets and a white countertop. Both were sitting at the blue island of her own design in the center of the galley. As she sat, Buchanan was amazed at the poundage of beans the small being could consume. His eating habits aside, she wondered if the alien would try to hijack her ship. He seemed harmless when he wasn’t shooting holes in her space craft.

So, tell me, bean lover, what are you doing on this part of the planet? she asked as she carefully reached for a blaster tucked away under her kitchen island out of sight. She hated to have to blow a hole in her lovely island to drop the creature. It was full of her best China. More beans?

My body is...full, he told her, not sure of his words. He struggled with her language. It was difficult for him to command. Rest is needed.

The alien leaned back against one of her cushy imported chairs from a distant moon. He appeared full. His content face smiled at her. Very relaxed and cool, he was. Not a worry. He wasn’t much of a talker. Just sat and stared at Buchanan.

His staring at her made her a bit nervous. Still, she wondered if the creature was stuck on the planet like her. He didn’t show up in any type of vehicle. Was he a nomad? Could he be part of a tribe? The thought of his relatives showing up and shooting at her made Buchanan nervous. Yet, the guy seemed okay.

What are you called? she asked with her hand now on her weapon.

Slow coming was the response. It was like his brain was in park. The creature’s words seemed stuck there. A mumbled response came out. He said it with a full smile: Slickeedoo.

Yikes thought Buchanan. The little guy’s mother must have enjoyed stringing together words for baby names. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing a bit.

What did your mom call your brother or sister—Slickeedon’t?

Her response clearly confused him. But it didn’t stop him from settling back into the chair and dozing off. With his eyes shut, he continued to pose a big smile in her direction. This was something she wasn’t expecting. She was hoping he would do what many of her relatives or friends did—eat and leave. An alien squatter in her galley was not appealing.

What are...you called? he asked while contently rubbing his midsection.

Buchanan, but you may call me Buck, she told him. She still wasn’t sure if she could trust him. Who’s your tailor? she asked him loudly, trying to get him to wake up. Her hand was still on her blaster under the counter.

Suddenly, he stood up. He stepped quickly out of her ship and onto the ramp leading out of the cargo bay. He stood on the ramp listening intently. The broad smile on his face slowly disappeared. It was replaced with concern. He turned to Buchanan who was now next to him holding her weapon.

Time to leave, he said.

Why? she asked, looking out into the desert. What’s going on Slick?

You...don’t have...many guns to stop them.

He bowed at her with respect and started down the ramp. He didn’t bother to look back. Not a good-bye, thanks for the shootout or a wave back. Nothing. Buck thought the small stranger was going for good, but he stopped. He turned to her. With a sympathetic look, he told her: Waited...too long. They are close. Not good for us. Can we fly away?

A perplexed face—along with an expression of flatulence release—was now showing on Buck. She thought her feminine charm had run off the alien—that or her spicy beans. Now the guy was talking about doom and gloom on the way. It’s always going to be something. A downed ship, a shootout with an alien then having him over for dinner. Always something.

We can fly away if you help me, she told him. How much time do we have?

Darkness comes...they come, he replied with fear in his voice.

Then we better get working, she explained before another intestinal trumpet release.

CHAPTER 2

N ot that wrench! The one sitting next to it, Buck loudly told her bean filled alien helper. She stood on a ladder and kept staring out at the open cargo bay as she worked. What could be so threatening out there, she thought? After Slick handed her the wrench, she quickly began turning it. She took off the cover and replaced the connector. Once the cover was back on, she told her dinner companion: We should be able to move. We still can’t reach orbit, but we can move along the surface.

Slick nodded. He also was now regularly gazing out at the cargo bay. To watch him one could see the extreme concern in his large dark eyes. It was easy to see that he wanted to get going as soon as possible. He lifted his head and gazed at her with extreme concern.

They are...close, he told her.

What’s the worse they could do—shoot us? she asked.

They...like...their food alive, he responded struggling for the words.

What?

She really didn’t want an answer. Just a quick exit from this place after hearing his response. She jumped off the ladder and ran to the cargo bay door. She slammed her palm down on a large red button on the wall next to it. The door slowly closed. Before the door completely closed, she ran toward the bridge. Surprisingly, Slick was close behind her. After they reached the bridge, she quickly sat in the pilot’s seat.

Come on, Buchanan said loudly while examining the pilot’s console. Get us off the ground.

Slick was watching through one of the portholes. He stared at the dust stirring off into the twilight distance. It made him pace from one porthole to the other. Every now and then he would nervously brandish his weapon.

We must move...now, Slick told her holding his weapon in the air.

It won’t go, she replied with frustration. She looked desperately at the same dusty images in the distance her newfound companion was gazing at. Something is wrong with the AG generator. We’re still dead in the dirt. I hope I didn’t just make a pun.

What is pun? he asked with an innocent face. What is AG? He couldn’t stop staring out into the desert as he spoke.

Anti-gravity generator. Are you sure about what’s out there? she asked again after realizing they weren’t going anywhere immediately. You could be mistaken.

Slick turned and faced her. His expression was serious. He told her with steadfast body language: They come soon. Eat...us.

Buck’s eyes widened some as she pounded on the console with exasperation. She knew the charger for the generator had to be the problem. Whether she could fix it in time was another matter.

Well, Slick, I don’t plan on being anyone’s dessert. Even though I’m sure I would be the best thing they ever tasted, she told him with a cocky flair. She ran to the entrance of the cargo bay where all her heavy ordinance hung. Slick was still close behind her.

Tell other humans...help, he told her.

No power, no calling for help, she explained. No power, no movement. She then pulled a large weapon from the wall. Everything is dead—except us—for now.

For a moment he looked perplexed. Then he smiled and said: You call me Slick. I call you Buck.

Sure, my bean connoisseur. However, you can call me daft if we don’t get moving soon, she replied with frustration. I can’t believe the stupid generator crapped out. Buying used stuff can have its drawbacks.

A few seconds later her dinner guest became quiet. She assumed he was praying the way he was bowing in different directions. Maybe, praying for a way out of the present situation. Currently, Buck was hoping for some divine intervention.

If you’re praying, say one for me, she told him checking her weapon. She moved to a porthole and peered out. The stirring desert dust moving toward them made her uneasy. She asked Slick: What is causing the dust clouds?

Bug...riders, he stammered a bit with the words. They hunt...us.

Buck was taking time to process the image popping up in her mind. What is a bug rider? She had stepped on a few insects on the planet she was on now. She ran from some on other planets that were the size of rats. But the idea of humanoids using insects for transportation made her queasy. Also, the idea that the riders were cannibals made the refried beans in her belly jump.

Are there a lot of them? she nervously inquired while not taking her eyes off the figures starting to show in the distance.

Riders standing on brown insects the height of Shetland ponies made Buck and Slick gasp a bit. The six-legged creatures moved quickly across the desert terrain. Their sturdy legs left a dusty trail as they galloped toward Buck’s disabled ship.

You know, I bet your mom never prepared you for these kinds of events, she told Slick. My mom used to always keep a can of bug spray in the house. Buck glanced down at her weapon. I guess this will have to do.

Slick lifted his arms as two shooting tubes showed from under his garments. He gave her a look of desperation and gratitude. He told her: I...like your refried beans. You shoot Slick...when I have...no more defense.

Hey pal, I don’t plan on letting them take either one of us. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Those bug riders are not going to get anywhere near us, she explained with conviction. She ran back to the console. After a few moments, she yelled: Yes! The ship’s systems are recharging. It’s still going to take a while for the gravitational anchor to get up to snuff but we should be operational in a few minutes.

We...can run? he asked with a hopeful smile.

Only along the surface when we get enough power.

Will...call for help? he again asked.

Buck was reluctant to answer. She didn’t want to tell her unexpected passenger that she was moving illegal goods across his planet—assuming it was his planet. Law enforcement, what there was of it out here, wasn’t kind about it. Usually, they confiscated the goods and turned them over to the local authorities. Something her current employer would be very upset with her about. She balanced the thoughts of getting arrested, eaten by bug riders, or blasted into smithereens for non-delivery of goods. She couldn’t risk letting the riders damage her ship. Fighting then flight were the only viable options.

I hope you can hit a moving target, Buck told Slick. Follow me.

Buck led Slick to the upper section of her transport. After opening the hatch, she and Slick stepped out onto the top of the ship. It gave them an elevated line of sight on the group moving toward them. With twilight slipping away, they could hear the shrieks of the riders as they approached.

Do they always scream like that? she asked.

When...it...is feeding time, he responded in a low angry tone. They have eaten...friends.

Slick had Buck’s absolute attention. What is going to happen if the ship doesn’t get moving? As the screaming got louder, she noticed the wind starting to increase. Something unexpected was about to happen. A sandstorm.

Much sand will come, Slick said pulling down goggles over his face.

Great. Screaming cannibals on bugs and now a sandstorm, Buck declared loudly over the building wind. She strained to see how many attackers there were. She too pulled goggles down over her eyes. Slick, I count about ten riders.

Buck gazed at Slick and asked with a desperate voice: Are the bug riders afraid of storms?

They...still come, he informed her as he pointed his weapons in the rider’s direction.

She looked at her guest. The little guy was calm and ready for a scrap. Good thing for her, she shared her beans with him. Otherwise, she would be fighting alone.

The rider’s faces were now becoming visible to Buck. Their large green, fluorescent eyes were glowing with lustful hunger. A sand-colored complexion made their bodies more difficult to see. A brown loin cloth covered their wiry frames. Untied dark hair on the creature’s heads flailed in the sandy breeze. Seeing all this caused Buck to raise and point her weapon at the oncoming shrieking invaders.

But it was Slick who fired first. He stood calmly firing at the hungry fierce riders. His weapon shot small fire balls at the creatures. The nearest rider fell when one of Slick’s shots hit its mark. The wounded cannibal shrieked