Starship Teapot: Books #1–3: Starship Teapot

PRAISE FOR SI CLARKE

A deeply heartfelt story … Clarke understands the peculiar magic that is addressing a serious topic without taking oneself seriously in the process, and wields wit and wordplay with enviable skill. Pratchett and Adams fans, take note.

TYLER HAYES, AUTHOR OF THE IMAGINARY CORPSE

Wonderfully charming and beautifully weird…

AMANDA, BOOKISH BREWS

Farcical theatre at its best … full of wit and charm.

JOHN DEREK, GOODREADS USER

Clarke has keen insight, and Judgment Dave holds up a mirror to our present moment … a hilarious tale wrapped around a warm, uplifting core.

J. SCOTT COATSWORTH, AUTHOR OF THE STARK DIVIDE

Fun sci-fi that deftly balances irreverent comedy and prescience

DAVE WALSH, AUTHOR OF BROKEN ASCENSION

Read this if you love queer space romps that have something important to say – and can still make you laugh.

ALEX, ACROSS MY SHELVES

Joining the Teapot crew again is like snuggling in a fuzzy blanket. It's just so wholesome and lovely.

MAUREEN, GOODREADS USER

For everyone whose mind is reeling from, well, everything and who can’t cope with another serious novel about serious people dealing with serious problems. Not right now.

STARSHIP TEAPOT #1–3

THREE SILLY TALES OF LIFE IN SPACE

SI CLARKE

Starship Teapot #1–3

The Left Hand of Dog

Judgement Dave

Consider Pegasus

www.whitehartfiction.co.uk

Copyright © 2022 by SI CLARKE

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Most recent update: 11 May 2024

Editing by:

Michelle Meade of Michelle Meade Reads

Lucy York of Lucy Rose York

Charlie Knight of Charlie Knight Writes

Nicholas Taylor of Just Write Right

Hannah McCall of Black Cat Editorial Services

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

Author's Note

Content Warnings

The Left Hand of Dog

An extremely silly tale of alien abduction

Before

1. Bunnyboos

2. Vindaloo

3. Bexley

4. Interrogation

5. Escape

6. Figurative mode

7. Gagging for a cuppa

8. Blanket-armour

9. Clarke’s third law

10. Magrathea

11. The merchandise

12. Born this way

13. Forty-two

14. [no frame of reference]

15. Mauve alert

16. Return of the bunnyboos

17. Déjà vu

18. The Teapot

Judgement Dave

A tale of apawcalyptic proportions

Previously on Starship Teapot…

1. Lizard in the basement

2. Unintended coiffure

3. Accidental porn incursion

4. Cats will be cats

5. Disaster-platypus

6. Herding cats

7. As you know, Bob

8. Astronomy-denialists

9. Spiky friends

10. Mouthspeaker supremacy

11. Blue phone boxes

12. Hacked off

13. No rush

14. Holo-Henry

15. Everyone is pink sometimes

16. Not again!

17. Failure to communicate

18. Pub

Consider Pegasus

A space tale about unicorn rights

Previously on Starship Teapot…

1. A salad plate?

2. It takes a unicorn

3. Lem and the beanstalk

4. Cacti and sacred cabbages

5. Please stop saying penis

6. Sleeping alone

7. Joker's wild

8. Deep Space Five

9. Deptford Death Sauce

10. Zippy the walking rainbow

11. Never set foot on a gas giant

12. Not all bunnyboos

13. Bungle

14. But science!

15. Violet, Horta, Fern, and Bees

16. e pluribus unicorn

17. This is getting to be a habit

18. Pub

The end (for now)

About the author

Also by SI CLARKE

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This book is written in British English. If you’re used to reading American English, some of the spelling and punctuation may seem unusual. I promise, it’s totally safe.

This story also features a number of Canadianisms. Sadly, I cannot promise these are safe. You may find yourself involuntarily wearing a touque and craving Timbits and a double-double. It can’t be helped. Seek treatment immediately.

Lastly, this book contains an inordinate number of geek culture references. This as an homage to all things science fiction. There are countless references to all my favourites – Star Trek, Red Dwarf, Firefly, The X-Files, Doctor Who, Battlestar Galactica, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Babylon 5, The Expanse, etc. None of it should be read as derogatory or dismissive, nor would I ever suggest my work can take the place of anyone else’s. Please support artists and authors. This is my love song to the entire genre.

CONTENT WARNINGS

The Left Hand of Dog contains the following:

Anaphylactic shock

Minor injury to a dog

Judgement Dave contains the following:

Slavery, oppression, and genocide

Ableism

Consider Pegasus contains the following:

Strong themes of ableism and transphobia throughout

Pregnancy and brief mentions of miscarriage and baby loss

Also, please note that trans women are women. Trans men are men. Non-binary people are who they tell you they are. This book is not for TERFs.

THE LEFT HAND OF DOG

AN EXTREMELY SILLY TALE OF ALIEN ABDUCTION

BEFORE

‘I just want to be the kind of person who has adventures, you know? That was the whole point of moving to Canada. And it’s why we’re here now. Away from Toronto, I mean. We deserve to have an interesting life, don’t you think?’

Spock gave me her full, rapt attention – head tilted to one side in that stereotypical confused German shepherd pose.

It was the first day of our week-long getaway in Algonquin Park. Overhead, the velvety blackness was interrupted only by pinpricks of stars. At my feet, the Oxtongue River made soothing, bubbling noises.

‘This is perfect.’ I glanced at my watch – nine o’clock. ‘Well, what do you think, Spock? Shall we call it a night?’

Back in our little log cabin, I cracked open a can of Bean Me Up espresso milk stout by Fuggles & Warlock and called up a book on my phone. Catherynne Valente’s Space Opera had been on my TBR list for ages, but I never seemed to find the time. Taking a sip of the beer, I read the first paragraph … and promptly fell asleep.

1 BUNNYBOOS

‘Geez, Spock, you want me to freeze to death?’ I tried to grab some of the duvet and … wondered why I couldn’t move. I opened my eyes, but it was too dark to see.

‘Hang on,’ I muttered. ‘You sleep at my feet. Why are you stealing my covers?’ Surely my eyes should have started adapting to the darkness by now. I tried to move my hand again. No joy on my right; it was pinned in place. My left arm was tangled around Spock, her fur thick between my fingers. I lifted my hand to my face and used my nose to tap my watch to activate the torch – and promptly began hyperventilating.

This wasn’t my house. No, wait. I wasn’t at home. Spock and I had gone away somewhere. My mind felt like it was swimming through treacle – my reactions were sluggish and my head was foggy.

And now we were spooned together in some sort of double-wide coffin. No room to move. I was curled up on my side with a squishy gel supporting me. It felt cool and slick, like it ought to be liquid, but acted more like memory foam.

‘I’m dreaming. I’m not trapped. It’s just a dream.’ Closing my eyes again, I took slow, deep breaths.

Two, three, five. I struggled to remember what came after five. Seven, eleven, thirteen. Another deep breath.

We’d left Toronto and gone… Where did we go?

Some sort of back-to-nature break – that was it.

Spock tried to roll over.

We both panicked at the same time – her scrabbling desperately and me screaming. A light appeared beyond what turned out to be a clear roof above us. Although I couldn’t make out what was outside the confines of our little prison, I could at least see that there was an outside. That’s comforting, I suppose.

‘Algonquin Park! That’s where we were.’ We’d gone hiking and then we’d retired for the night in a little log cabin.

I sat upright as the lid of the coffin lifted and slid aside with a soft kshhh. Wave after wave of nausea made me wish I hadn’t moved. Spock made that hur-hur-hur that was both a motion and a noise. I scrambled to one end of the coffin just as she threw her dinner up at the other end.

A pink ball of fuzz in the corner of the coffin-box caught my eye. I reached out and picked it up. Spock’s brain. A handmade squeaky toy shaped like a human brain. I’d bought it for her a year earlier. She carried it with her everywhere. She must have been clutching it in her sleep when we … when … when whatever had happened. Spock snatched it out of my hands.

I looked around the dim room. Maybe a workshop? No, too clean for that. A dentist’s office? Lots of shelves, cupboards, and bits of strange equipment.

Spock sat back on her haunches and panted. I wrapped my arms around her. ‘We’ll be all right, mate. Just gotta figure it out.’

A few months back, I’d packed up my dog and everything I owned. I’d moved us from England to Canada. It was all part of my grand plan to reinvent myself. Ergo the hiking: I was determined to become the kind of person who had adventures.

Finding myself in an alien dentist’s office wasn’t really the sort of adventure I had in mind, though.

Startled by the sound of movement behind me, I whirled around to face three … they had to be children in bunny costumes. ‘What?’ That’s what they had to be, right? I mean, they weren’t actually rabbits. Definitely not. For one thing, they stood upright. Real bunnies don’t normally do that, do they? For another, they were about the size of Spock.

But the costumes looked real in that no skin showed through – not even on their faces – and I couldn’t see any zips. Also, I was pretty sure rabbits didn’t come in pastel rainbow colours. Actually, they reminded me of a toy I’d had as a child. Bunnyboo, I’d called it. Four-year-old me was terribly inventive.

‘Check out your floopy-floppy ears! How adorable are you?’ Nervous sarcasm still intact then.

I was nauseated enough that shaking my head seemed like a bad idea. ‘It was beer I had last night, right? Not, like, psychedelic mushrooms? Maybe some natural tree spore that makes a person have trippy visions?’ No one answered me. Or even looked at me.

Spock sat neatly and dropped her brain in my lap. She lifted a paw towards the nearest of the bunnyboos – for want of a better word. The creature’s mint green fur matched the emerald hue of its humongous Disney princess eyes. ‘Yip,’ said Spock in her smallest, most polite voice.

This is not happening. I must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Something.

The creature pulled a device from a holster like a carpenter’s apron and pointed it at Spock. Or maybe it was merely reading what was on the screen – if it even had a screen. Who was I kidding? I had no idea what they were doing.

Another, slightly taller bunnyboo – this one periwinkle blue with eyes like Wedgewood plates – stepped forwards and ‘spoke’ to Spock as well. That is, its mouth moved and Spock’s full attention was on it. But no sound emerged. Spock yipped again in response to whatever it was I couldn’t hear.

Spock pointed at me with her long, sable nose then looked back at the bunnyboos and emitted a low noise, not quite a growl.

‘Would someone please tell me what the bollocking pufferfish is going on here?’ I demanded. Okay, not demanded. Requested. Well, pleaded. Whined, maybe. Whatever verb it was I verbed, no one paid me any heed.

The bunnyboos of my strange hallucination were too deeply engrossed in their silent conversation with my very real dog to spare me any of their attention. It was like watching a TV on mute – except I could hear movements and breathing and the sound of my heart beating a drum on the inside of my chest.

After a few further moments of this bizarre fever dream, Spock leapt down out of the coffin and turned to face me. She sat on her haunches and looked me in the eye. Then she lifted one paw at me in a clear imitation of the ‘stay’ command I used with her.

A bunnyboo with heather purple fur lowered a rope lead over Spock’s head. Spock stood and followed them from the room.

‘Where are you taking my dog, you fluffy bastards?’ I clambered out of the coffin-bed and scrabbled after them as fast as my besocked feet would carry me. But the thick metal door slid shut seconds before I got to it.

I pounded impotently on the door, screaming, ‘Spock! Come back. Don’t let those fuzzy arseholes hurt you.’ Unable to find a doorknob or control panel or anything, I leant against the wall next to the door and slid down until I landed on my arse. I shivered and hugged my knees to my chest.

Why can’t I wake up? Letting my head fall forwards, I cried for a bit, whimpering Spock’s name periodically.

After a while, I took a deep breath. And another. I counted primes up to thirty-one.

‘Time to snap out of it, Lem. Think, think, think. If this is a dream, you’ll wake up soon enough, have a nice shower, go for a hike, maybe later you’ll get some therapy – and everything will be fine. But if it’s not a dream, and you really have been kidnapped by small furry creatures, then you need your wits about you, right?’

I’d read somewhere that talking to yourself didn’t mean you were crazy – it was only crazy if you answered yourself.

‘Right,’ I replied. ‘Okay, first things first.’ I checked my smartwatch. Where the date and time normally were, there was just a single word: ERROR.

Hmm, that’s weird. I checked the relevant settings. Offline. I suppose that was to be expected.

Deep breath. ‘Right, let’s check this place out.’ I hauled myself to my feet and looked around, stopping to grab Spock’s brain toy. I clutched it to myself as I explored the perfectly ordinary room. The walls were a brilliant, glossy white and the shiny, clean floor was pale grey.

The ceiling was more than two metres high, but the door Spock and the bunnyboos had walked through had a clearance of well under two metres – I’d have to duck to walk through it.

The tops of the bunnyboos’ ears barely reached my shoulders, so that fit. The edges of the space were lined with cupboards and worktops – all sized for beings much shorter than me.

There was something that looked like a sink. Smacking my lips, I wondered how long it had been since I’d had anything to drink or eat. How long had I been unconscious?

A series of coffins on plinths stood in the middle of the room – not just the one Spock and I had climbed out of. Four of them. They looked a bit like commercial fridges lying on their backs. I approached the nearest one and peered in. The top was frosted over. I touched it to see if it was cold – but then the room was like a giant refrigerator. Everything felt cold.

I focused on looking through the window rather than just at it. There was something in there. Another person, maybe? It dawned on me to use my watch’s torch again, so I switched it on and aimed my wrist at the window. I gazed into the abyss and … a large yellow bird stared back at me.

It opened its beak and screamed. Well, I thought it screamed – much like when the bunnyboos spoke, I couldn’t hear anything. I could definitely hear myself howling, so I knew my ears worked.

The door to the room whooshed open with considerably more urgency than it had whooshed shut with. The three bunnyboos and Spock ran back in.

Oh, thank God!

The purple one still held Spock’s lead. Thankfully, she didn’t look any the worse for whatever they’d done. I ran to her. Dropping to my knees, I wrapped my arms around her neck and buried my hands in her thick fur. ‘My baby. Are you okay?’ She sat on the floor and leant her head into my chest.

The lid of the coffin-fridge I’d disturbed slid open and the bunnyboos gathered around it. They had their backs to us. This was my chance. I lifted the end of the lead up over Spock’s head, then beckoned her to follow me as I ran for the door.

As before, it slid shut before I got to it. I skidded to a halt in my sock-feet and slammed into the closed door. You know that definition of stupidity that involves repeating the same actions and expecting a different outcome? Yeah, well, I may or may not have searched for a doorknob in the same spots I’d already examined. But what else was I supposed to do?

Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned to find the blue one was pointing a device at me. Weapon? Communicator? Weather-sensor? Coaster? How the hell was I supposed to know?

Blue looked at me. Green raised her arms. Wait, his arms? Their arms? I shook my head. Not the time to wonder about alien pronouns. I decided to stick with she until someone told me otherwise.

Blue’s lips moved rapidly. But with no noise. The bird-creature stood up in its coffin and squawked. Frantically.

Spock leapt in front of me. Alsatian genes told her to protect me. In stressful situations, they tended to override any good sense in her tiny dog brain.

The bunnyboos had a silent conversation. Looked heated, though.

‘Wrooh.’ Spock made a plaintive bark.

Didn’t work. Blue moved towards me. The Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog raced through my mind. But a dog-shaped shield flew through the air and chomped down on her child-sized leg. She pulled the bunnyboo away. Then, it was all a blur. Fur flew in every direction. Green. Blue. Purple. Spock’s sable. Limbs and bodies tumbled and rolled. Spock snarled and snapped her teeth.

Green pointed her device at my dog. Spock crumpled like an empty bag. My vision glowed red. Not literally, of course. Figuratively. Still…

‘You killed my best friend, you fuzzy little bastard. I’ll kill you all, you monsters.’ I launched myself at the nearest bunnyboo, whichever arsehole it was. The last thing I saw was the same weapon being pointed at me. Then something hit me and I died.

2 VINDALOO

Okay, so I wasn’t dead. I was warm and comfortable, though, which persuaded me to stay in bed a bit longer. Somewhere, at the edge of my memory, I recalled a strange dream. What was it about?

Bunnies! There were talking bunnies and a giant parrot and an alien dentist’s office. Frak me, what was I drinking last night?

The mattress was cushier than mine, so I figured I must still be in the little cottage near Algonquin Park. Spock’s weight pressed on the back of my knees.

It must have been late morning, as I could sense brightness. ‘Ugh, Spock. You’re not going to believe the dream I had.’ I rolled over onto my back and opened my eyes.

It wasn’t the cottage. Spock and I were in a bright white room. She wore a new collar – turquoise with pale yellow polka dots. ‘What’s going on?’ As if she was likely to answer me.

She inched closer and set her pink plush brain toy down on the bed next to me. ‘Lem no panic.’

And that’s precisely when I freaked the frak out. ‘Don’t tell me not to panic, Spock. Why the hell shouldn’t I panic? I’ve been kidnapped and murdered by alien bunnies and now I’m in prison with my dog telling me not to freak. What’s to not wig out about?’ The room began to spin around me as I hyperventilated.

Spock lay down and whined as she pressed herself against me. ‘No panic. Everything okay.’ The voice reminded me, weirdly, of my dad – who’d died when I was sixteen.

My watch face no longer showed an error. Instead, it declared: SPOCK SPEAKING.

‘A bold claim.’ I sat up and leant against the pillow as the room swam around me. Spock whimpered. ‘Everything is very much not okay, Spock. Hang on.’ I giggled hysterically for an age or two.

‘Oh my gosh. Someone had me going there for a sec. That whine came from you, Spock. I heard it … I heard it. Whoever I’ve been speaking to – the voice is coming from my watch.’ Whatever drugs were swimming through my blood clearly had a hallucinogenic effect.

The screen altered as I spoke: LEM SPEAKING.

‘All right, you wisecracking bastards. That’s enough. No more taking the piss. Who am I really speaking to?’

Spock pawed at my arm like she did when she wanted me to pet her. ‘Rub chest.’

SPOCK SPEAKING, lied my watch.

I patted her chest – not because some joker on the other end of the line told me to do so, but because the real, living Spock the Dog clearly wanted me to. And it felt good to do so. She had a calming effect on me.

‘I don’t know what’s happening or where we are or who’s pretending to be you. But I love you, Spock.’ I took a deep breath and considered my options. There weren’t many.

‘Spock loves Lem,’ said … someone who definitely wasn’t my Alsatian.

‘Okay, mate.’ Whoever they were, they were obviously listening to me. Probably had cameras watching us as well. ‘I hope there’s a toilet somewhere because I really have to wee.’

Spock pointed with her nose to a door behind the head of the bed. ‘Pee place.’

‘Okay, doofus. You’re definitely not the one talking but I’ll go check it out.’ I got up and headed to where Spock had indicated.

The door was too low for me to walk through but it slid open as I approached. I ducked into the small space, which was indeed a bathroom. Everything looked clean and high-tech – except the toilet was just a hole in the white floor. I shrugged and did what I had gone in there for. To my left was what appeared to be a shower and to my right was an ordinary bathroom sink. Lower to the ground, though – like it was designed for kids.

I remembered the bunnyboos. If they had existed, that is – which they definitely did not and they certainly hadn’t murdered me and/or my dog. But if they had existed, then the sink would probably be sized for them.

As I washed my hands, I studied myself in the mirror. My dark blond hair looked like I’d not combed or washed it in a week.

I decided a shower probably wasn’t the worst idea, so I stripped off my pyjamas and hopped in. The water was, of course, aimed at about my navel. I had to crouch down to clean my face and hair. Afterwards, I reached for the— Bollocks! No towel. Or clean clothes. ‘Oops. I guess the Hitchhiker’s Guide was right after all. That’ll teach me.’ But I was hit by a gust of warm air – up to my chest. I ducked down and tried to let it blast some of the water out of my hair.

I put my pyjamas back on and returned to the … bedroom? Hospital room? Prison cell?

Spock was still lounging on the bed. She looked up at me and farted – nice to know some things never changed. ‘Feed Spock?’ She wagged her tail hopefully. Maybe it really was her talking.

‘I got nothing, mate. Sorry.’

Spock sighed melodramatically and flopped down on the bed.

I looked around. The only door was the one to the bathroom. The room was a rectangle. No, what’s the word for a four-sided space where the sides aren’t equal? The two long walls were equal in length but not quite parallel. The wall behind the bed was wider than the wall opposite it. The bed was square, maybe one and a half metres. If I wanted to stretch out, tough – but I normally curled up in a ball, so it hadn’t bothered me thus far.

The only other furniture was a low table in one corner of the room. Aside from the bathroom door, the walls were plain white and featureless.

‘Wait.’ The opposite wall had a frame around it – like one massive door frame. I tapped it. ‘Huh.’ I tapped the wall to my right. ‘Huh,’ I repeated. I headed over to the wall across the room. And then the one behind the bed. ‘Huh,’ I said for a completely unnecessary third time.

Spock lifted her head and looked at me. ‘What do?’

‘Listen.’ I tapped the wall behind the bed again, then circled the room, tapping all four walls in various spots. When I knocked on the wall opposite the bed⁠—

‘Not same,’ said Spock, joining me at the wall.

‘Prisoners to step away from the door,’ boomed a voice from my watch. It wasn’t Spock this time. We both jumped away from the wall.

I looked at my wrist. PURPLE BUNNYBOO SPEAKING.

‘No way,’ I shouted. ‘No. There’s no way your name is actually Purple Bunnyboo.’ You might say I wasn’t adapting very well to this – whatever this new experience was. I was still pretty sure I was dreaming. But it was a hell of a detailed dream.

A small door opened in the framed wall, maybe half a metre wide and half that in height. A tray with two bowls and two mugs was pushed through. ‘We have analysed your nutritional requirements and provided food that meets it,’ said the deep, gravelly voice. The door swung shut and disappeared.

‘Would now be a convenient time for me to introduce myself?’ said a new voice.

I stared at my watch: UNIVERSAL TRANSLATOR / PERSONAL AI SPEAKING. I’d never had any kind of app like that on my watch. Had someone tampered with it?

I looked at the food. Spock was quite keen to eat. I lifted the tray and carried it to the low table. ‘How am I supposed to know which is which?’ I asked no one in particular. ‘Does it even matter?’

‘The bowl on your left has been designed to meet your needs,’ said the universal translator. ‘The one on the right has a higher protein content, aligning to Spock’s needs. The mugs are empty, but you can fill them from the tap in the bathroom.’ It sounded like one of those text-to-speech programs. Just words. No real personality.

‘What is it? And who the hell are you? What is this place? Who are these frakking bunnyboos? What the bollocking hell are we doing here? How did we even get here?’

While I bombarded my watch with questions, Spock waited impatiently – a steady flow of drool pooling at her feet. ‘Feed Spock, please.’

I lifted the lid off the indicated dish. The contents looked like a sort of grey risotto, but the scent that hit my nose made my mouth water almost as much as Spock’s was. ‘Sweet potato vindaloo? Really?’ I was sceptical of eating anything in this strange prison. But then, if this was all just a grand hallucination, what difference would it make if I imagined myself eating food? Besides, I was famished.

And so was Spock, obviously. ‘Give.’

‘It’s what your friend’s mind had flagged as favourite,’ said the universal translator.

‘My friend’s… You’re reading our minds? Hang on… Are you sure that’s not mine?’

‘It has been formulated to meet her nutritional requirements,’ replied the disembodied voice. ‘The ship’s facilities prepared a meal of the appropriate nutrients and calories for each of you and then seasoned them with your favourite flavours.’

Ship? What ship? And then I just … gave up. I decided to go along with the dream, or the hallucination, or the prank, or whatever the bastarding hell this whole thing was. With a shrug, I set the bowl on the floor for Spock, who inhaled the contents. I lifted the lid off the other bowl. It looked like the same drab porridge. I sniffed it. ‘What is it?’

‘It is 500 calories’ worth of nutrient porridge, comprising thirty grams of protein, eighteen grams of fat, twenty—’ said the voice I was beginning to hate.

‘Yeah, yeah, all right. But what is it? And why does it smell like … that?’

‘It is made using the root of [no frame of reference] combined with [no frame of reference]. The seasonings are created from chemical compounds designed to emulate your preferred foods. Whereas Spock’s mind showed a clear favourite, yours contained 243 foods all flagged as favourites, so the computer selected two at random.’

No frame of what? I took a tentative bite. ‘Is that…’ I tried to identify what I was eating. The lumpy, slimy texture wasn’t helping the process. ‘Mango?’ I smacked my tongue a few times. ‘And peanut butter?’

‘Yes.’

The first bite made me realise how hungry I was, so I sat and wolfed the contents of the bowl down almost – but not quite – as quickly as Spock had eaten hers.

Now that I’d decided to play along with this – for the moment, at least – it was freeing. I could indulge my curiosity without letting my panic get the best of me. ‘Hey, universal translator – actually, that’s going to get old really quick. Is there anything else I can call you?’

‘You may call me anything you like, Lem,’ said my watch.

‘Kay, fine. I hereby dub thee Holly,’ I said. ‘So anyway, Holly?’ Spock stood up and headed for the bathroom.

‘Yes, Lem?’

HOLLY SPEAKING, declared my watch face.

I ran after Spock, hoping she wasn’t going to pee everywhere – though I had no idea where she was supposed to do her business. Instead, I found her squatting over the hole in the floor. ‘Oh, er, sorry, Spock.’ I felt my face flush as I ducked and backed out of the bathroom.

‘What the hell is wrong with me? I just apologised to my dog for seeing her do a wee – I’ve seen her wee every day since I got her.’ I shook my head to clear it. ‘Anyway, Holly, would it be possible to make a request to the kitchen?’

‘Of course, Lem. Within reason.’

‘Never mix mango and peanut butter again.’

As Holly answered ‘noted,’ the watch face changed – GREEN BUNNYBOO SPEAKING – and a big, booming voice announced, ‘The prisoner in cell A will step forwards.’

Did they mean me? Was this cell A? How was I supposed to know? I stood up and patted Spock’s head as she joined me. ‘You’re such a good girl, Spock.’

A larger door – about a metre and a half in height – opened next to the smaller door the food tray had been shoved through. Green and Purple were both standing just the other side.

I bent down to duck through the door and stepped forwards, but Purple stabbed at me with some sort of truncheon. ‘Not you. Step back.’

‘What? You want to question my dog? What information do you think she has?’

Spock padded towards the door, clutching her brain between her teeth, then turned to face me. She dropped the toy at my feet. ‘Lem no panic. Spock good girl.’

‘No, no. I don’t care. You can shoot me again if you want, but you’re not taking my dog.’ I stamped my foot like the disgruntled toddler I apparently was. Moving to stand in front of Spock, I put my hand on her.

Spock walked calmly around me, then turned to face me once again. ‘Stay.’ She walked out the door. It swung shut behind her, locking me alone in the cell. I slapped the wall pointlessly. The panic I’d staved off while Spock was still in the room was creeping back up my insides.

‘Ow.’ I rubbed my hand on the brushed cotton of my pyjama bottoms. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do now?’ I demanded of no one in particular.

‘Please restate the question,’ replied Holly.

As I paced the room, I demanded, ‘Where the hell did those fluffy arseholes take Spock? I swear, if they hurt her, I … I …’ I ground my teeth. ‘I don’t actually know what I’ll do – but it won’t be pretty.’

‘Spock has been taken for questioning,’ replied Holly. ‘She will not be harmed.’

I forced my anger and frustration aside. As much as I was concerned for Spock, I wouldn’t get anything by being belligerent. Instead, I needed to gather as much information as I could. ‘Who are you, Holly? Why is it you’re talking to me, but your friends are only interested in what Spock has to say?’

‘To answer your first question, I am your personal translation and assistance device. I am equipped with basic AI functionality to help facilitate your understanding of reality. Translators sometimes communicate with one another at the request of their owners, but they don’t normally speak to any other sentients. Your captors are most likely speaking to Spock about the crimes for which she has been arrested.’

I stopped in my tracks. ‘Arrested? What do you mean arrested?’ I tried to swallow the terror. It was hard to think rationally. ‘What crimes are you suggesting my dog has committed? Is she going to be okay?’

‘With regard to your first three questions, I’m sorry, but I’m not party to that information. As for her well-being, the [no frame of reference] convention of [no frame of reference] dictates that she not be harmed. She must be safely delivered to the court on [no frame of reference] to stand trial.’

‘Okay, well, that’s something at least. Sort of.’ I closed my eyes. ‘If Spock’s the one who’s been arrested, why are you talking to me, not her?’

‘I am your translator and personal AI,’ said what had been a perfectly ordinary smartwatch yesterday.

‘Yeah, but why aren’t you Spock’s translator? You have to admit I’ve got you there, right?’

‘Please restate the question.’

‘Why were you assigned to me?’ I opened my eyes and stared at the featureless wall in front of me. There was almost certainly a camera somewhere, though I couldn’t see one.

‘Each individual who doesn’t already have a translator is assigned one. I was installed on your watch. Spock didn’t have a device suitable for an AI, so one was given to her.’ That explained the new collar, at least. ‘It was fitted with an identical translator – though, over time, the differences between AI units increase as they adapt to their owners’ preferences.’

That made me sit up. ‘So, this whole time you’ve been speaking to me, you’ve also been talking to Spock. Well, not you – but an identical you. How come I couldn’t hear anyone talking to her?’

The answer hit me a split second before Holly spoke. ‘Because, much like the bunnyboos, Spock’s device speaks at a frequency not detectable by human ears.’

‘Huh,’ was all that I could muster as I flopped down onto the bed, dejected. Spock had been gone for a while. Despite Holly’s assurances that she was okay, I was worried. The anxiety felt like a rock in my chest.

‘Initially, you can set me in either literal or figurative mode,’ said Holly. ‘Over time, I’ll learn your personal preferences for how best to relay information to you.’

I scrunched up my face. ‘What do you mean?’

My personal AI did not sigh at me. It definitely didn’t. ‘At present, I have not been set to either literal or figurative mode and I don’t know enough of your preferences to make a reasonable guess, so there are gaps in our conversation where there is no common frame of reference available. If you instruct me to use literal mode, I will endeavour to explain alien concepts precisely to aid your acquisition of knowledge. If you set me to figurative, then – to facilitate expedient communications – I will choose the closest corollary, drawing from your own mind. This will include facts you already know but may have forgotten. I will also incorporate extrapolative and fictional sources. Your extensive knowledge of science fiction will provide a useful base for figurative mode.’

‘Huh?’

‘For instance, when you asked earlier about the composition of your meal, I could have explained that the primary bulk was derived from the root of a plant native to the fourth planet of a star system you have no name for in the galaxy you think of as NGC 5128. The root is known for providing complex carbohydrates and for its ability to absorb flavours. Or I could have said it was cassava. This would not have been factual in a literal sense – but it would have conveyed a basic understanding with fewer words.’

‘Oh, yeah. Do that then, please. The figurative thing.’ Although I was nauseated by my fear for Spock, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by all the information that I was being fed. And more than a bit overwhelmed.

‘As you wish,’ said Holly.

The low door opened again and Spock returned, ears back and tail between her legs. She plodded to the edge of the bed. I reached for her, relief flooding my system. She buried her head in my armpit. ‘Wanna go home.’

‘Yeah, I know, mate. Me too.’

She looked up at me. ‘Spock good girl?’

‘The bestest,’ I replied, stroking her fur. She climbed up onto the bed and nuzzled into me.

How were we ever going to get home?

3 BEXLEY

Although I wanted to let her rest, I had to ask right away; she’d never remember if I waited. ‘What happened, Spock?’

‘Bunnyboos say bad girl.’ She covered her face with her paws.

I stroked her fur. ‘You’re a good girl, Spock.’ Her tail gave a tentative little thump on the bed. ‘What do they think you did?’

Spock whined. ‘Say Spock bad girl.’

I twirled her velvety soft ears in my fingers. ‘It’s not true. You’re a good girl – a very good girl.’

She wagged her tail more confidently and pressed her face into my hand. ‘Rub cheeks.’

Spock didn’t want to talk anymore. She refused to answer questions – instead, she curled herself into a ball, farted, and went to sleep.

I thought about asking Holly some more questions about where we were and how things were meant to work, but I didn’t want to disturb Spock. Whatever had happened with the bunnyboos was clearly upsetting her.

Instead, I stroked her head and thought about how we could get out of this situation. If I even believed the cockamamie story that Spock had been arrested, then surely we’d need a lawyer – someone to plead her case. And didn’t they have to read us our rights? Why was I here – was I meant to be a witness to something?

And that was assuming this wasn’t all some trippy dream or grand prank. I still wasn’t entirely convinced.

After I’d been sitting quietly for a few minutes, the lights blinked out. ‘Must be on a sensor,’ I said aloud – forgetting I was trying not to disturb Spock. Out the corner of my eye, there was a flash of movement. Were the bunnyboos back? I sat up – and the lights came back on – but not before I freaked the frak out. Yes, again.

‘Holly, what the bloody hell was that? What did I just see?’ I wasn’t screaming. Definitely not.

‘Please restate the question.’

In my panic, I’d woken Spock. She leapt off the bed and looked around. ‘Lem okay?’

‘That wall,’ I said, answering both Holly and the dog. I pointed at the framed wall opposite the bed. ‘It disappeared. For a second, it wasn’t there.’

‘Are you asking about the window-wall, Lem?’

I glanced at my watch. It still weirded me out that Holly and Spock’s voices both emanated from the same source.

‘Er, yeah, Holly. I might be. I mean, what? It never occurred to you to mention this disappearing wall trick before?’ Who was I supposed to glare at when my sarcasm was directed at a disembodied idiot chatbot? ‘Holly, what’s outside the window?’

‘You are aboard the starship Teapot. This is the ship’s holding cell area,’ said the voice. ‘The cells are clustered in a semicircle around an access point. There are five cells and a corridor that leads to the medlab and a lift to other levels of the ship.’

I nodded woodenly and stumbled towards the wall. That made no sense. There was no way that I was on any kind of spaceship. Maybe I was dreaming or hallucinating. Or I’d been kidnapped. Perhaps this was all some elaborate prank. I thought of the elaborate high jinks the office pranksters got up— No. I shook my head. If I thought about it too hard, I might break down entirely. ‘How can I make it a window again?’ I wanted to see what else there was to this place.

‘The wall is opaque when the lights are on.’

I reached out and touched the wall, running my fingers along its smooth surface. ‘Okay, so I just have to stay still long enough for the lights to switch off again.’ I dropped down to the floor and sat facing the wall.

Spock wandered over and joined me.

‘No, Spock, we have to⁠—’

‘Make dark,’ she said.

‘That’s not going to work, sweetie,’ I told her. Except it did. ‘Oh, clever girl!’ I reached up and patted her head.

The space on the other side of the window was clean and white, like our cell. The lights were dim, just a narrow strip of what looked like LEDs along the front of each cell. ‘Ha! There are other cells – other prisoners!’

‘That is what I said,’ said Holly.

Most of the cells had opaque white walls, but the one across from mine was cast in deep shadow. Silhouetted behind – or in front of, depending on the perspective – the cell’s big front window was a person sitting on the floor. They sat like a human, but with a head more like you’d see on a horse.

‘Hello, talky friend,’ said Spock. She tossed her brain at the window. She ran to collect it after it bounced off and returned to sit next to me.

I twirled her ear in my hand. ‘They can’t hear you, sweetie. I’m sorry.’

Spock tilted her head and looked at me. ‘Friend says hello.’

Holly cut into the conversation. ‘The prisoner in cell E is requesting permission to communicate with you. Shall I put her through or decline the call?’

I raised my hand to my mouth so hard I accidentally slapped myself. Across the way, I saw the horse-person touch their own face – her face, apparently – in response.

‘Yes, Holly, yes! Please put her through.’ I stood up and straightened my hoodie out over my pyjama bottoms. I hoped I didn’t have any of that horrid porridge on me – because this was proper first contact stuff.

‘Hi,’ said a feminine voice from my watch. ‘Oh my gosh. You speak, too. That’s amazing. Your – um – spouse has been telling me about you. She says you’re awesome, by the way. Are you awesome? She and I met last night when they brought you in. You were unconscious, but Spock and I had a good old chat, didn’t we? Well, I say we had a chat, but it’s possible I did most of the talking. One of my dads is always telling me I need to let other people get a word in edgeways sometimes.’

The way she spoke reminded me of a woman I’d met at work a couple of days previously. Michelle. They even had the same voice. The absurdity of the situation combined with the bizarre déjà vu overwhelmed me. I was laughing and crying at the same time – snotting everywhere. The enormity and ridiculousness, paired with the mundane reminder of familiarity, finally cracked my mind like an eggshell.

‘Oh, no, no,’ said the horse-person. ‘I’m sorry. Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? Or, like, a priest or something? I’m sorry. I don’t know your species. Is this normal? I just want to prepare myself so I know how to react. Please don’t think I’m being rude – I don’t mean to be. I just… Are you okay?’

I looked around but there weren’t any tissues anywhere.

‘Are you…? Do you need a towel to wipe your secretions away? There should be some in the cupboard under the sink where you do your ablutions. I’d get you one, but’ – she flicked her head back and forth, her forelock flopping down over her face as she did so – ‘you know … prisoner.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know there were towels.’ I got to my feet, causing the lights to come on overhead. ‘Back in a sec.’

She carried on talking. I walked towards the bathroom, still laughing and crying. Spock followed but turned back around when she saw where I was going. ‘I might be here when you get back,’ my fellow prisoner said. ‘Never know, though. I might pop out to the shops for a bit. Was thinking I might pick up a roasted grass loaf for dinner.’

I splashed some water on my face, then pulled open the cupboard and grabbed a towel to dry myself off with. The horse-person – I really ought to find out her name – was still talking. ‘Sorry, one of my other dads – not the same one I mentioned before – anyways, she always says people don’t get my sense of humour.’

Returning to the main room, I asked Holly to switch off the lights and resumed my seat. ‘Sorry about that. Just a bit overcome by my emotions there. Between being kidnapped and shot by aliens, and then waking up in prison on a spaceship and my dog telling me not to panic, and my watch suddenly giving lectures in linguistics and making first contact with an actual alien species, I guess I got a bit overwhelmed.’

My encounter with the bunnyboos was technically first contact – but they pretty much forced their presence on me. This was me voluntarily introducing myself to a new species. Spock circled the room and sat down next to me, leaning her whole body into me.

As I sat down on the floor in front of the window, the horse-person shifted into a different position, tucking her legs under herself. ‘Yeah, I totally get that. Oh my gosh, I was at home, dreaming a new engine design when’ – she lifted her arms in the air, waving two hooves around in a sort of lifting-whooshing motion – ‘then I woke up in a stasis pod. Little bit disorientating, you know? I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been kidnapped before. Not really, anyways. Well, there was that time that⁠—’

She waved her hoofed arms as if to change direction. ‘So, anyways, I was all, "Who are these bunnyboos