CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (read after txt) 📕

I’d never finish my conversation with Z’layna. My heart feeling like a thousand pounds despite my weightlessness, I glanced over at her.

She was staring at me, eyes wide with something I can only describe as horror.

“Um,” I said.

Z’layna jumped and dropped her wrench.

Do you have any idea how much force it takes to drop a wrench in zero gravity?

“Yeah,” I said, and left.

My “office” was a small space used to store welding equipment and spare hull panels. It also had enough room for the control desk, a chair, and (if you stood in the lower right corner with your shoulder wedged against the doorframe) space for a decent and nearly professional holochat. I positioned myself accordingly, sucked in my gut, and hit Receive.

“Greetings,” a voice came from the holomist as a reluctant projection formed. “Is that the commander of the Extra-Orbital Fowl Coop X10?”

Commander. I liked the sound of that.

I turned the title over in my mouth a few times, before realizing that clearly this was not one of my managers from Corporate and I therefore needed to be extra on-the-spot. “Um… Yes, this is Rigby Jones. Commander Rigby Jones.”

“Rigs” everyone always called me. Welp! From now on, it was going to be “Commander Rigby Jones.” I imagined the warm glow of Great-Great-Uncle Rigby Matthias Jones’ approval and squared my shoulders.

The holomist shimmered and the vague figure came fully into view.

Definitely not Corporate.

A tall, graceful woman with the same blue skin and sharp features as Z’layna. Not merely the same race, they must be mother and daughter.

“Commander Jones,” she intoned, and it was as though Z’layna’s haughty delivery had been condensed and magnified tenfold. “We have received news that my daughter Z’layna of the Five Realms is harbored in your space station. Is this true?”

I worked through the parts of her question like an overloaded air filtration turbo. “Five Realms? Harboring…? How’d you receive the news? This isn’t a space station…”

“If you would kindly stop jabbering, Commander Jones,” she said impatiently. “We don’t care what your space-structure is, but merely that the princess is on it—the report of which we discovered buried in communications chatter related to the arrival of new technicians. Prepare for docking procedures.”

The holochat cut out, leaving me actually jabbering.

I jerked my hands through my hair, then shouted into the communicator. “Marchant! Where are you? And where’s that ship?”

“Keep it down, dude!” Marchant answered. “I don’t know where the ship is. I’m in Segment 5 doing cluster maintenance. Like the schedule says.”

Segment 5. The farthest from the docking bay.

I strung together a collection of colorful words and clattered from my office in a ramshackle run.

“Rigby?” Z’layna chirped through the communicator. “What’s going on? Who was that on the holochat?”

“No… time…” I gasped, pounding along the corridor—a ring inside the outer segment coops. “Your mother—”

“Nebula’s teeth!” she swore.

Weird. I’d never heard her use language before—especially not such strong language.

Come to think of it, I’d never known her to use the communicator.

I skidded around the final corner and then into the main section which formed a permanent part of the ring in place of an eleventh segment. Crews’ quarters, dining, recreation, docking bay were all here. There should have been a commander’s office, too, but I wasn’t consulted about the design of these things. In fact, since they were designed when I was about four years old, I wouldn’t have been much good anyway. Though, I may have suggested a weapons turret or two.

Yup. There was a great big, hulking, sleek, beautiful spaceship right outside the docking bay. I tried to get my hands to stop shaking as I punched in orders to get our slow computer system to open the doors.

I resisted the urgent and deep need to sink into a chair and catch my breath.

Maybe I need to run the ring more often.

The hydraulics and airlocks whirred and clunked, as the bay doors reluctantly opened. Of all things in the OEFC X10, the bay doors are possibly the least cooperative. Surly, in fact. I wouldn’t care much about this, it being the kind of problem that falls squarely on Corporate. They ought to have sent over a specialist and a load of new equipment years ago.

“No!” shouted Z’layna, loping into the main room with all the graceful speed I lacked.

The inner door gave up the struggle and flew with an appendage-threatening whoosh.

Z’layna stiffened to attention, her face and hands smeared and her hands shaking.

So, of course, I pulled myself straight too. Yet not as successfully since I was still quivering from my sprint.

For a moment, there was no sign of anything beyond the airlock. Then—

Two towering figures entered, skin midnight blue and clad in shimmering silver tunics. So identical that they might have come out of the same packaging in the toy aisle.

“Announcing,” they said, eerily in unison, “her gracious majesty, Queen Z’chal of the Five Realms.”

They parted and stood to each side of the doorway, bowing slightly.

The woman from the hologram—the older-version-of-Z’layna—strode through and regarded the main room as if it was the throne room of her palace. She acknowledged Z’layna’s presence with a raised eyebrow and turned on me.

What do you do when presented to royalty?

Especially regal royalty from the far reaches of space?

Doubtless with cities made of sparkling spires and winged airships and things.

My second-cousin Emma married the royalty she’d encountered.

I, however, could barely manage my chickens. And marrying Queen Z’chal did not seem to be an option.

Probably, I ought to have bowed or performed something along the lines of a salute.

However, I merely remarked in my best manner, “Auagghh-umm…!” With my mouth unable to close.

The queen nodded to me. “Commander Rigby Jones, I presume?”

“Commander?” echoed her daughter, barely loud enough for me to hear.

“I believe I am within my rights to inquire why you have extended sanctuary to the fugitive princess of the Five Realms,” Queen Z’chal demanded. Her gaze switching between me and her daughter with laser-like accuracy.

“Ahhhh…” I said. “Sanctuary?”

“There was no question of sanctuary, your majesty!” Z’layna spoke