Twinks in Space: Destination Unknown - Part One - 5. Chapter 5 - Boullia Bay

Lyoth and Phentrom jumped in their seats at the devastating sound of the explosion behind them, and Phentrom slammed on the buggy’s brakes. The two of them spun around to see a fireball rising up from the place where their landing shuttle and three companions had just been.

“What happened?!” Lyoth gasped.

Phentrom’s gaze moved from the devastation up toward the clear blue sky. “It came from the Ulaa-Lah,” he declared. “They blew up the shuttle and killed Konark, Drolpi, and Morzil!”

“But why? Why would they do that?”

Phentrom sucked air through his teeth. “I think it was meant for me. I think the four of you didn’t matter to whoever did this. I think they just wanted me… decommissioned,” the mandroid finished in a disgusted tone.

“It couldn’t have been Captain Suoki, could it have?” Lyoth asked. “I truly believed that he supported us being together.”

Phentrom interlaced his fingers with Lyoth’s. “I suspect it was one of the men on the crew who wasn’t comfortable with the change in me and was afraid about me being a threat. Poor Konark, Drolpi, and Morzil,” Phentrom added.

“We have to go back and try to help them.”

“My scans indicate it was a plasma missile. The landing shuttle has unquestionably been destroyed, and I suspect the entire island where we landed has also been obliterated.”

“We need to go back,” Lyoth stated.

“The Ulaa-Lah has the capabilities to scan for us, and as soon as whoever did this knows I’m still alive, they’ll hunt us.”

“Phentrom, please, we have to go see if anyone survived,” Lyoth begged, and the mandroid nodded.

They turned toward the raging flames but were only able to get back to two other islands. The bridges had been destroyed in the blast, and from where they stopped, Lyoth and Phentrom could see the crater that seconds earlier was their landing shuttle.

“There are no signs of life,” Phentrom said quietly.

Tears began to well in Lyoth’s eyes.

They heard the rumble of several motorized vehicles racing in their direction.

Phentrom looked at them and then beyond. “I think we should get to that village.” He pointed in the direction they had been traveling before the explosion. “We need to see if there’s a bigger city on these islands where we might be able to disappear and hide out for a while or hitch a ride off-planet.”

Lyoth conceded, his gaze shifting from the flames to the approaching locals. “What are we going to tell them? There’s nowhere for us to go, so we’ll need to explain our way through.”

“Play dumb?” Phentrom recommended. “We’ll say we don’t know what happened, that we landed safely and the ship exploded while we were on our way to their village. Let’s not mention the other three and just tell them that we are on vacation.”

Lyoth agreed.

A woman on a motorcycle was the first to reach them, and she skidded to a halt. “What in the universe happened?!”

Lyoth put on his best expression of alarm. The tears that were already in his eyes helped. “We don’t know! Our ship, it just… it just exploded! We had only driven away from it a few minutes earlier. ” His tears streamed. “I can’t believe this just happened! And it was a rental,” he added. Lyoth was very convincing.

“Was there anyone else with you?” the woman asked.

“No, we’re just on vacation,” Phentrom answered quickly.

“What a way for it to begin. Well, I would normally say, ‘enjoy your stay,’ but that seems unlikely. What are you going to do now?”

Phentrom glanced over at Lyoth and replied to the woman, “The shuttle is completely destroyed. Is there a larger city where we might be able to find a ship headed off-world?”

“You’re looking for Boullia Bay. I’ll lead you through our little town of Lomia to the bridge that’ll take you to the next island. You’ll be able to see Boullia from there.”

“We are much obliged at your assistance.”

The woman turned her bike and the two followed in their buggy. She paused and explained to the other locals who were driving out to help with the fire that the explosion was devastating, and most of them turned back the way they came.

The village of Lomia was small and the woman on the motorcycle had soon led Phentrom and Lyoth through it. She pointed to the next island. “At the top of the rise you’ll be able to see Boullia Bay. That’s your best bet for regular off-world travelers.” She returned to Lomia, and the men continued farther.

Lyoth let out a sigh. “That was lucky.”

“Glad she was sympathetic to our plight.”

“Yeah… hey, look!” Lyoth pointed ahead of them.

A massive carved head began to come into view over the hillock. The buggy rolled up and stone shoulders appeared, then a chest and arms. As Lyoth and Phentrom crested the small hill, the rest of the mighty statue and the city of Boullia Bay filled their vision. The bustling and packed metropolis surrounded a crescent-shaped harbor of calm water. Two outlets led from the cove back into the open ocean, but they also protected the large island’s small city.

Lyoth turned to Phentrom. “Since now we have nothing, no food or supplies or any other clothes besides what we’re wearing, I think we should try and find a busy part of town and sell this buggy.”

“I agree, and it’s not like we’ll be able to bring it when we find a ship to take us off-world.” Phentrom pulled into a refueling station garage at the edge of Boullia Bay and parked the buggy. An attendant approached and asked what he could do for them.

“We are in the market to sell this overland rover. Any chance you know where we might find a potential buyer?”

The man eyed them both. “A couple of handsome gents like you ought to head on down to the Boullia Bay strip. There’s always something going on in that part of town, and the fellas there are particularly friendly. The splendid men, the fancies, the strong bois, really all the rainbow folk hang out down on the strip, hocking their wares or looking for love; pretty good chance you’ll find a buyer down there. Now,” he continued, “you’ll want to head through the treehood,” and he pointed. “Don’t be fooled by the name; no trees grow in the neighborhood. It’s named after the old Tree family. They’re all dead these days though. Okay, so pay attention.” The man sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “When you come to the statue of Oakahoa, you’re gonna want to follow the only path with a short tunnel.”

“What’s Oaka… Okuh… Ockah…” Lyoth attempted.

“Oakahoa,” the man repeated. “You don’t know Oakahoa? He’s an island deity associated with the golden oyster harvest that happens here every spring. You won’t be able to miss him. He isn’t as big as Lillilali,” he commented, squinting into the sunlight and pointing up at the gargantuan statue that towered over Boullia Bay, “but Oakahoa is a prominent feature of the region. He stands right on the border to the treehood and the strip. He’s on a giant starfish that points five directions. Only one path is tunneled, and like I said, it’s short and it leads to the strip.” He patted the top of the buggy in a reassuring way.

“And you really think we’ll find a buyer down there?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Well, we greatly appreciate your guidance.”

“You gents, have a good’un.”

Phentrom steered the buggy back out onto the street from the service station and headed into the treehood. The area was made up of rundown warehouses and storage facilities. Every building was a different shade of tan or beige or gray. There were very few people.

“He’s right. The name doesn’t fit the neighborhood.”

Their vehicle rolled along for more than a mile without passing a single turn, and when it eventually did, the cross streets were little more than alleyways.

After another mile without much variation, Lyoth noticed a figurine carved in marble ahead of them. “That must be the statue. Goodness,” he exclaimed, “is that its dick?”

As the buggy rolled closer and the men got a better view, there could be no doubt that the enormous protuberance from the statue was indeed its penis. It was very disproportionate and looked ridiculous.

“Oh, my!” Phentrom said, looking up as the buggy drove beneath it. The thing cast its shadow upon them and they could not stop themselves from snickering.

The base of the statue was indeed a starfish that pointed in five directions with streets running four different ways from the one on which they approached.

“That is one big prick,” Lyoth commented, turning around in his seat for another look.

“I like it,” Phentrom added, and the Lyoth snorted another laugh.

Only one of the four other paths had what might be considered a tunnel, but its overpass was more like a wide bridge. From one end to another, it was only a few buggy-lengths long.

Phentrom steered toward the opening and drove into its gentle shade.

Then a very large rock came crashing down in front of them, blocking the exit.

Phentrom hit the brakes. “What the?!” he cried out in alarm.

“Shit,” Lyoth growled.

“What is it?” Phentrom asked, but his question was moot.

Another boulder smashed down behind them at the other opening of the tunnel.

“Looks like we caught one!” jeered a shrill voice full of malice.

A pair of men stepped out onto either side of the enormous rock that sat in front of the buggy. One of them was holding a bludgeon, and the other was fiddling with a hunting knife like it was a toy.

Behind the buggy, another harsh voice declared, “We’ll be taking what you’ve got,” and two more men stepped out, each holding clubs.

“Shit,” Lyoth repeated.

“What should we do?” Phentrom said under his breath.

“You’re going to give us your stuff,” stated the thug in front with the club. “We can hear you whispering. Get out of the vehicle with your hands up.”

“Do it!” the man with the knife shrieked, pointing his blade at the buggy. “Do it now!”

The two other goons began to approach from behind.

“Shit, shit, shit…” Lyoth continued, turning to glance at them, and then looking into the backseat.

The sneering man with the knife suddenly froze in his tracks. He made a gasping noise, and his face contorted as he grabbed at his stomach. The blade fell from his hands and clanged on the ground at his feet. The other three men hesitated and turned to him as his body seized up a second time. His arms went rigid, and he cried out in agony. He shifted his hands around his sides and tried to reach for his low back, but he went stiff a third time. He teetered where he stood and fell forward without raising his arms to prevent the impact, and his face smashed against the pavement.

Protruding from his back were the shafts of three arrows. Their feathered ends quivered, extending up like flags of conquest. One arrowhead was lodged in the man’s liver. The second penetrated his descending colon and its vicious tip was now in one of his kidneys. The third was between his shoulder blades at the base of his neck. He lay convulsing in the dust, grinding his bloody face into the concrete.

The thug beside him with a club looked down and managed to say, “What the…” before an arrow ripped straight through his neck, piercing from one side to the other. Its jagged arrowhead dripped gore where it stuck out of his flesh. His bludgeon dropped from his hand and he fell to his knees, clutching feebly at his throat. He gaped at the air like a fish.

In the buggy, Lyoth grabbed Phentrom’s hand and whispered, “Don’t move,” as the two men behind the vehicle raced up and ran past it toward their fallen companions.

They hid at the mouth of the tunnel, trying to spot the archer. With a ringing clang, an arrow suddenly struck one of their weapons and sent it spinning from the man’s hand. The club clattered onto the ground beside the two dying thugs.

In a flash, Lyoth turned around in his seat and reached into the back of the buggy. He grabbed a pocketknife from his bag and kicked open the door.

Phentrom squeezed his hand and begged, “Don’t go out there!” but Lyoth pulled his fingers from the mandroid’s grip and climbed out of the vehicle.

The men’s attention suddenly focused on Lyoth. He walked right up to the kneeling goon with an arrow in his neck, and Lyoth slit his throat. The man gurgled and collapsed, and his companions were shocked. They launched themselves at Lyoth, but the one still holding a club screamed. An arrow sank its brutal head through the back of his hand, effectively disarming him and simultaneously affixing his weapon to his flesh, making him unable to drop it.

Lyoth ducked as the other man swung his fist, and Lyoth slashed him across the stomach, cutting deep and causing him to collapse to the pavement. His guts sloughed into the gutter, and he clutched for his intestines like repulsive sausages, as his life eked away.

The former first mate rose to his full height as the warrior he was, and he approached the man with an arrow in his hand. Lyoth was a hurricane, spinning and stabbing in an instantaneous dancelike assault. He stepped back as blood fountained from stab wounds in the final thug’s groin, armpit, and jugular. The man grabbed at the holes in his flesh and slumped to the ground.

“He’s dead!” Phentrom cried. “Get back in here, Lyoth! I don’t want you getting shot also!”

Lyoth dropped his knife to the bloody pavement and held both hands up in a placating gesture toward the exit of the tunnel in front of him. “Please don’t shoot me!” he called, and he reached his hands out into the sunshine. No arrow came sailing in his direction, and he dared to take a quick peek. He was surprised by what he saw. “Oh, hello there,” he said, lowering his hands and stepping out into the daylight.