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

clearly and too loudly, putting so much emphasis on the title that it became an insult. “This is my place of work, as a technician employed by the Extra-Orbital Poultry Company, on rotation to provide maintenance and related services to Free-Range Coop X10. I am paid a reasonable salary for decent, honest labor. In no way is this space craft providing me sanctuary—beyond the basic functions of life support.”

I might have quibbled with her opinion of a reasonable salary; but she was a princess, after all, so how was she to know what a decent living wage was? Also, I was astonished at hearing her deliver so many words all in one go. Normally, it would take her a good two weeks to get through that speech.

“And had you any knowledge of this arrangement?” The queen still addressed me. If her eyebrows had gone any more cocked, I’d have thrown her in the roost.

“Ah.” I cleared my throat and made my first attempt at a complete sentence: “Z’layna—Princess Z’layna, I mean, is an excellent technician, ma’am, and came with the highest recommendations.” What was I doing—giving a reference to her next employer? “That’s all I know,” I added, lamely.

At which point, Queen Z’chal leveled her eyebrows and completely forgot about me.

In fact, I am not sure she recalls my existence even now.

She strode past me, covering the entire dining area complete with unwashed dishes and greasy 4D card games in two steps, until she stood directly in front of her daughter. “Why?”

It was more than a question.

It was an indictment. A declaration of war. A complete summation of a life of many wrongs, wrapped up in one simple syllable.

Only from truly irate chickens have I ever heard the like.

“Can you really ask?” Z’layna curled her lip, meeting the gaze and the question straight on.

“Shirking your royal duties to crew a—a sustenance generator? It is a question well worth the asking.”

“It is more than a sustenance generator,” Z’layna returned with something suspiciously like a snicker. “And it is far superior to the alternative.”

“Are you referring to your impending marriage to the grand general of Ca’slaphrea?”

“Have you seen him? It’s an abomination!”

The queen, a few inches shorter than Z’layna, drew herself up until she seemed to tower over everyone in the room. “Nevertheless,” she said in a voice that was truly terrible to hear. “This alliance by marriage is a good and necessary one to bring about the lasting peace our two peoples have craved for all too long.”

“Then you marry him, mother!” Z’layna planted her hands, including a screwdriver, on her hips.

“That is impossible! A reigning monarch cannot—”

“Then neither can I!”

“Daughter,” Queen Z’chal softened her tone with obvious effort. “Think of our people! We have been locked in war for more than a century with the Ca’slaphreans. Would you condemn us to yet more conflict?”

“Nonsense!” Z’layna tossed her head. “We haven’t been at war in anything but name for years. It could have been outright peace, if anyone had bothered to just sit down and sign a treaty. But, no. It had to take something big, something important, and something truly life-shattering to bring everyone to an alliance.”

“Trade agreements are important to—”

“Establish travel routes to gas cloud scuba diving?” Z’layna said, her voice dripping sweetness. “For that we finally want official peace?”

“Anything that brings our peoples together in lasting unity and—”

“Save it for the public addresses, your majesty! You know as well as I do that this is merely a pretext to get rid of your sixth daughter in a way that doesn’t look wasteful. And look around! I’ve taken care of your problem for you!”

“Ahem, yes,” I put in. After all, I was supposed to be in charge of this place. Commander Jones and all. Maybe I could assert a little diplomacy. “Look around. Perhaps a tour around the facility, just to have a look at what we do, get a feel for your daughter’s work…?”

“Excellent idea!” A broad smile curved Z’layna’s often scornful mouth. “Have a tour around the facility, mother? Maybe get an idea for what this sustenance generator run by the Poultry Corporation does?”

“Very well,” the queen bent her head in gracious agreement.

With a clunk and a shumpf, the bay door closed so suddenly that everyone jumped.

“What’s going on?” Z’layna demanded.

“The ship is moving away, your highness,” one of the twin servant-guys replied from a position at the controls he had no right to take. “To make way for the Ca’slaphrean vessel.”

“You invited the Ca’slaphreans here?” Z’layna hissed.

“Of course,” her mother answered. “Your nuptials are long overdue, and it seemed only right that the betrothed should meet at the first opportunity.”

The hydraulics whirred and—whoosh—the door opened again.

“Wait…” Queen Z’chal’s eyes widened. “Did you say poultry?”

“I was going to show you—” Z’layna stuttered. “I didn’t mean—It was only a joke.”

“Presenting his excellency, the grand general of Ca’slaphrea,” the twins bellowed.

In from the airlock walked a large, round, corpulent humanoid. Sheath-like brown and red protuberances covered him from head to foot. His long and expressive arms were folded at his sides. His hair rose in a bright red comb from his head and his nose dropped to a sharp yellow point.

I have never seen an alien that more resembled a chicken in all my life.

“Well?” he clucked. “Where is she? Where is my bride?”

Z’layna backed up into the corridor. “Um… look, really quickly, I didn’t know you were coming, ok? I just wanted to make a point to my mother, and—”

A sharp whistle followed by a pop rang out. Suddenly, the artificial gravity stopped working and, at the very same moment, loud squawks and clucks echoed through the corridor.

“What,” squawked the grand general, flapping his arms, “is happening?”

Chickens, boneless blobs of feathers and feet and beaks, floated down the corridor from whichever segment had breached.

“You didn’t!” cried Queen Z’chal, swinging wildly with no gravity to anchor the blow at her daughter.

Z’layna tumbled backward.

I lunged forward to try to catch her. Together, we somersaulted into the Ca’slaphrean ship.

The hatch chose