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Bendy enjoyed his new job as receptionist for the spaceship that Dr. I.C. Yourinsides and Capt. Spocari Nemoy and others worked in. The latter passed through every morning on his way down to Wallytown and the surface, and also passed by around 6:00, 6:30 in the evening when he returned. Bendy had only seen Dr. I.C. once so far — no real need for her to descend to this lowest deck (with the highest number, though: 15) since she is still unable to go groundside because of the continuing effects of the New Island radiation, even though they are no longer that near New Island. Fisher or Fishers Island is their home now. Their New Home. As stated previously, Spocari’s saving grace in this respect is his not-red-but-green blood.

From his switchboard console, Bendy had access to *some* of the ship’s information and history. It was that Bottle Mound in Alabama which made all this possible — and necessary. The two dead Greys at *Wallytown’s* mound (of similar height — a doppleganger mound, in effect) are not really dead, nor Greys. Hector and Lewis, and also likewise deceased Gerry slumping against an interior wall, didn’t really exist. Something else was going on. That’s why they haven’t been buried. They are merely “signs”.

Former receptionist Willard Picard had just moved to Chicago in the Real World to work at a newspaper, father Justin’s dream of the young man eventually succeeding him as the ship’s Chief Communication Officer be damned. Thus the reason the post was vacated when Bendy teleported up and then met a surprised Cpt. Nemoy about a week back. “It is not logical that you sit there in Willard’s place,” you might recall him saying at the time while training several guns on his head.

The robot reports on Wallytown were blocked to Bendy. No possibility of getting the scoop on Tronesisia, then — for now. Just the info about the Alabama Bottle Mound and attached Nehi Indians, as well as histories of the ship’s crew such as Nemoy, Yourinsides, and Picard (both of ’em). The ship was called Cuthand (CU-than), after both a witch and a wizard who either were married or siblings; Bendy couldn’t conclusively conclude from the information at hand.

(to be continued)

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final frontiers

Picard’s voice sputtered over the staticy intercom. “Captain Nemoy?”

“Yes? What is it?” came the deep, level voice, doused with a good amount of irritation. Oh he truly *hoped* he didn’t have to go up into *space* again and deal with this or that. He so loved it here in his underwater lair. But Chief Communication Officer Justin Picard’s voice was almost always a harbinger of such things.

“Just a friendly reminder from Dr. I.C. Yourinsides that you have that debriefing with the new transfer in 15 minutes in the War Room. It’s on Deck 1 of 15…”

“Yes, yes, I *know* where the space station’s War Room is.” Dufus, he tacks on to himself. Spocari Nemoy had totally forgotten about the scheduled meeting. The fascinating topic of analyzing and then quantifying the possibility of sub-atomic sea horses will have to wait.

—–

“Penn Mann??” questioned Spocari to Dr. I.C. after teleporting directly into the War Room 30 minutes later. It was a red flagged landmark in his inventory: red for trouble. “What’s our director doing in this meeting? Was there a problem with the production? Besides the fact that we’re still in August and we’re almost halfway through this Collagesity graphic novel called ‘2018 *Later*’. What’s the next one to be called: ‘2018 *Even* Later’?”

“We have another, different quandry now,” Penn Mann thought into both their brains with a thin voice. “Mrs. Blue Jay Wade is 4 months pregnant but is perfect for the part. However, ‘Collagesity 2018 Later’ is scheduled to run through the middle of October, when the baby will definitely start to show.”

“Then just use camera angle trickery,” groused Spocari Nemoy. “Like they did with Lucy Ricardo in ‘Bewitched’. Hide her behind some grocery bags, etcetera.”

A pause of about 30 seconds. Then: “She has an understudy, but it is a biker chick. I know you hate working with those kind after that remake of ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’, Captain.”

Captain Spocari Nemoy’s face screwed up until he recognized the error. “It was ‘The Wild One,’ Penn Mann.” Pen*head* he thought inwardly, then said: “For a director you often don’t seem to know a lot about movies.”

“Marlon Brando in both, yes,” came Penn Mann’s voice again in their heads. “My mistake. But I will also correct you: you’re thinking about Elizabeth Montgomery in the ‘Bewitched’ show. Lucy Ricardo starred in that more famous tv trope “I Love Lucifer”.

“Alright, enough of this,” Dr. I.C. Yourinsides spoke up. “We have to make a decision about Mrs. Blue Jay Wade. All she’s going to do is scream about her husband’s head being pulled off by Big Red. I’ve read the proposed script. Let’s go with the biker chick and save us a lot of trouble. This coming from a woman and a mother of 7.” Then she couldn’t help herself. “*Look* at me,” she offered, indicating her slim waist and overall figure. “Would you even know I had *one*?”

“Okay,” returned Penn Mann, not looking over at the many eyed alien beside him (since he himself didn’t have any eyes — no mouth, no eyes). “We’ll start Kelley DeForrest tomorrow. Sorry Captain Nemoy. Biker chick it is — the women have spoken.”

“Sh-t.”

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second sex

“Bring me out of it in 5 minutes Lt. Gunnhead.”

“You – are – so – amaaa – zing, caap – tain,” the 12 foot tall robot beside him, with a “gun head” indeed, clunked out from a larger, stubbier nozzle that acted as his official mouth. “Soon  – you – will – not – need – regen – er – aaation – at – aall.”

“Hopefully. I don’t know how Dr. I. C. does it. 30 minutes every 3 hours now? *I* wouldn’t even make it, perhaps.”

“Paaain – ful?” sputtered the robot. “You – said – beefore — no – paaain.”

“I lied, Gunnhead. I’m learning from you lot.” Cpt. Spocari smiled steadily at Gunnhead as the brief regeneration began, emphasizing how successful he was at hiding a wince now.

“Quaal – i – ty – over – quaan – ti -ty – yes,” nodded the watching, awed robot. “Greeeen.” I think we have a bit of a ro-bro crush going on here.

“Captain Spocari,” requested Dr. I.C. from the deck immediately below.

“Not – NOW. Regen – er – aaation.”

“Yes. I now see that process is occurring from my monitor, Lt. Gunnhead. Thank you for the explanation — and the warning.” Dr. I.C. had learned to be kind to the towering robot at all times. To save from rages; don’t want any more rages. No indeed. “But we have another transfer coming aboard. The yellow fog is forming even now.”

Lt. Gunnhead quickly calculated that it had been 3 weeks, 2 days, 4 hours, 37 minutes, and 53 seconds since the last such transfer. And this after they came so fast immediately after the catastrophe. Fisher, Bendy, Hector, Lewis, Gerry, but then no one until now. “I – wiill – bring – hiim – out,” he acquiesced. The robot knew this could be a very important, new development. The numerous guns making up his head would remain unfired for now. Retractors: on.

“Yes. It’s phasing in now — a woman. I think.” Dr. I.C. looks over, then checks the vitals again on her monitor. “Yes. Definitely female.” Yay! she celebrates inwardly. Finally someone to talk to.

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sentry

I’ve been sitting at this crazy console looking toward the entry teleporter for about 15 hours now, Bendy thought to himself. *No one* has shown up. I hope Fisher is enjoying his crazy dreamy time. Is this a deserted ship? Like a desert isle? he then thought. Dead Greys? (Hector, Lewis, Gerry) Did they represent the *entire* crew?

But of course there’s Fisher’s dreams of Dr. Ice Cream and being revived here. We *had* to come here to this new New Island in some way, Fisher told him, which was a logical deduction. Red and green together making a whole. Or perhaps a hole.

Spocari entered. Bendy had missed him teleporting up while daydreaming.

The space captain spotted the robot and drew his weapons. “Identify yourself, stranger. It is not logical that you sit there in Willard’s place. Where is Willard? Identify yourself.”

“Um, Willard had the, er, day off. Yeah. He’s sick as well. And he fell… down some stairs. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Lies!” Spocari declared in his deep, level voice. “Dratted robot lies. That’s why you should all be on the surface and not up here… lying all the time. Down there in the muck and grime is fine. Bar Lemon,” he then stated. “Did you come up from Bar Lemon?”

Bendy dropped the pretense which he wasn’t good at anyway. “Er, no. From the mound. With the Greys. Dead.”

“Hector, Lewis and Gerry?” Spocari offered. “Fine alien men all. They will be missed. And of course I can survive as well on the surface like you lot. But no other biological agents aboard. Just I. Do you know why robot? How smart and wise are you? Are you like Walldo and just a photo droid? Or, well I can’t say her name out loud because of orders.”

Tronesisia! Bendy thought to himself. She *is* alive! “No,” he then answered Spocari. “I do not know why you can survive on the surface and not other biological agents on this ship.”

“I’ll give you a hint.” He readjusted his phaser and then cut the palm of his left hand with a tiny beam to reveal blood. Green all right.

(to be continued?)

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