Pleas to the Pleiades

Long after Jimmie Memnon, the Prince of Candor, Khlilia, and Osha had left the solar system and gone Celestial North to avoid most of the Oort Cloud and all its dark matter, General Wood and a Mars mission landed near Hesperia.

Wood was breathing heavily in his space suit. “Why we are going to this Mars village of old hippie women, we’ll soon find out.”

He entered the dome with his men. “It seems the most likely place to start looking. The pawn shop agent in Syrtis said they were probably from Hesperia, and D’Autignan at the Chatterquot Facility seemed to agree it was the most likely place for Jimmie Memnon to end up.”

One of the matriarchs of Hesperia gave them a cold greeting. “General Wood, you and your team are not welcome here. We are an independent colony of artists, actors, and musicians. We are not under your jurisdiction.”

“Just tell us where Jimmie Memnon and his sidekicks are.”

“General Wood, they are long gone. And no, I do not know where they went. But I don’t think your antique rocket can even go that far.”

“Listen, please, I respect your jurisdiction here. Do you know what kind of new technology they have? And who, by the way, are they?”

She chuckled, flirting a little. “No, General, I don’t know anything about any kind of technology except baking cookies. I only know that their rocket does not smell as bad as yours does. Who are they? I do not know. A couple of his musician friends I suppose.”

Binger Shaker popped up and challenged the General, his wild red mane of hair flying in the low gravity. “Listen, you old piece of wood. Go back to your rotten Earth that you’ve almost ruined completely. Leave us alone. We have a hard enough time of surviving here without you coming around and taunting us. Oh, by the way, did you bring any goodies from Earth? Fresh oysters, lemons or limes, a barrel of stout, some fish and chips? Eh? Some smokes? That might put us, at least me, in a better mood. The oysters and lemons that Jimmie brought are all done.”

Wood looked disdainfully at Shaker and said, “We know why you’re here. Couldn’t get a visa to any country on Earth because of your unruliness.”

“Beware of Mr. Shaker, General. He’s a lot older than he looks, but he’s still a shaker of hot pepper sauce,” said the matriarch.

Just then, one of Wood’s crew members arrived. “Sir, we have had a problem with the main engine. It will take a few days to repair.” He departed.

Wood sighed in despair to the matriarch, “Our antique smelly rocket engine. Um, excuse me, I did not ask your name.”

“My name is Helena. And you are welcome to stay with us until your engine is repaired. May I call you by your first name, General?”

“Please do. It is Beauregard. You may call me Bo.”

“Would you and your men like some fresh-baked cookies, Bo?”

Wood smiled. “We would be delighted, Helena. Could you tell me about your Earth family?”

“We come from the old southern aristocracy, just like you. I am a relative of Robert E. Lee. But we have chosen to avoid the path of war.”

“Milady, sometimes I think that might be wise.”

“But you should not shirk from your duty. I would not respect you if you did.”

“Helena, you see how difficult my position is. Our antique smelly rocket engine will never catch up with Jimmie Memnon and his crew. My crew is still working on O-rings.”

While General Beauregard Wood was eating cookies with some of his crew, the other crew members were working on the rocket engine outside on red Mars. Three of them crawled inside the rocket hull, repairing O-rings and connections. There was a sudden explosion, and they were all killed.

The same crew member as before arrived again. “Sir, we have had a more serious problem. Over half of our crew has been killed. We have no way to get off this planet now.”

Wood groaned. “Have some cookies, Lieutenant.”

Meanwhile, Jimmie, Osha, Khlilia, and Candor were in their spacecraft studio, playing music.

Upon a pause in the music, Khlilia felt very sentimental. “This is the most romantic and beautiful journey I have ever been on, with three wonderful gentlemen.”

Candor was amused by that. “I’ll take that as a compliment, even though I am not a gentleman. I am not a man.”

“Oh, Candor, you are one of the best gentlemen I have ever known, because you control your bloody appetites so very well.”

Osha was tuning his bass guitar. “This oscilloscope tuner is the best one I’ve ever used, Candor. It shows every overtone, in a beautiful display.”

Jimmie was also tuning his guitar. “Yeah. These pattern displays are great. Plus, if we want we can now actually hear our engines working, like a hot sports car driver does. It’s a great intuitive report for pilots, Prince Candor.”

They began to rehearse again, but, in the middle of the music, everything cut out: the lights, the music, all systems. For a short time, chaos played on the oscilloscope and its information from the main drive engine control center. Everything was then almost black, and completely silent. The artificial gravity gradually diminished as the ship slowly stopped spinning, and they all four began to float in weightlessness. The ship was still going forward on the same course, but was gradually slowing down.

In chorus, Jimmie and Candor both very resonantly shouted, “WHAT HAPPENED?”

Osha, who by now had mastered the oscilloscope system, said, “Let’s find out. I cain’t see nothin’ on any display.”

“We’ll turn on the back-up battery power. That will give us light, heating, and keep our freezers and refrigerators going,” said Candor.

“We are here stranded somewhere between our Solar System and that of Diphda,” said Jimmie.

Osha replied, “The Whale’s Tail. I knew it was not the best first goal.”

Candor was patient, like anyone would be who lived for thousands of years. “It does not matter, Osha. I think I know what happened.”

Khlilia, worried, asked, “But can we fix it? … and where are we?” She looked out the window at scattered stars hanging in space.

Osha joined her at the window. “Wow! … but I cain’t see nothin’ recognizable.”

Candor said, “We are lost in space, my grandchildren. You have almost thirty-six hours of oxygen from our reserve systems. I have almost a year, even after you have died.”

All the Earthlings sighed.

“But I don’t think we have a problem that is insurmountable,” Candor continued.

Jimmie was already at work, checking the tuning of his guitar with that of the electronics that delivered the proton resonance frequency that controlled the mercury fission process of their engines. “I’m going down to the main drive frequency control system. Alone, with my guitar. I command you each to report to your stations and await my orders.” He descended the central tube into the heart of the drive system.

Khlilia, Osha, and Candor floated to their stations. Khlilia and Osha were closer together, looking out the space window at the empty and distant cosmos.

“Osha, I’m worried.”

“I am too. I’ve never been so far from home.”

“But I am worried that Jimmie and Candor are in league for their own ends.”

“Aw, c’mon. You ain’t known Jimmie as long as I have. He is as honest a man as I have ever known. If you love him, trust him. And I do not yet mistrust Prince Candor. Besides, he can hear everythang we say … If you mistrust him, do not talk. Draw a pitcher.”

Khlilia began to draw a picture of dragons and military officers.

General Wood was still on Mars, eating more cookies with the matriarch Helena. He got a call.

“Wood.”

“This is SID from Earth Central Command. General Wood, have you found your target?”

“Uh, not yet, sir. We’re gonna have to go farther than we have ever gone before, I fear. They are somewhere out on the fourth limb, I assume, because of their exit trajectory. They are probably over twenty light years out. Our rocket engine will never catch up with Jimmie Memnon and his crew, even if we can get it repaired.”

“You mean your antique smelly rocket engine will never catch up with Memnon. That’s why we are sending a Draconian interceptor to pick you up. Choose your crew.”

Wood groaned. He was doing a lot of groaning lately, he thought. “General, sir, isn’t that illegal? And how will we withstand their craft’s huge G-forces upon acceleration? Or their reptilian company?”

“Don’t worry, General. They agree not to eat you. Assemble your crew of five. Remember you almost started a war here on Earth. Follow orders and you might keep those stars on your lapels.”

Jimmie came up from the central tube, with his electric guitar in hand. “Friends, Martians, Countrymen. Lend me your ears. I have fixed our problem.”

“I knew you would, Jimmie,” said Candor. “What a mammal, my pet!”

Jimmie pushed the reboot button on the main computer. Everything lit up and began to hum. The ship picked up speed again, and began to spin, providing artificial gravity. They all began to play music again.

After some hours, Osha said, “Look, we approach the system of Deneb Kaitos.”