Miss Planet Earth

  Miss

  Planet

  Earth

  S.e. Anderson

  Miss Planet Earth

  © S.E. Anderson 2017

  Cover Art by Sarah Anderson

  Edited by Michelle Dunbar and Liam Burke

  ISBN: 978-0-244-97750-4

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, scanning, uploading to the internet, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher and/or author, except in the case of brief quotations for reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination, or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  First published in 2017 by S.E. Anderson

  Seandersonauthor.com

  Chapter 1

  In which mistakes were made, and visas revoked

  Katra Zorento woke up to find she had overslept the pageant by 13,000 years.

  Her fingers were still frosty as she sat at the desk, trying to warm them in the soft fabric of her leggings. To her left was the open casket she had been pried from: her cryogenic sleeping pod, packed with her makeup bag, her red ball gown and a bikini. There was also the large golden disk she had brought from Earth, a replica of the one from the Voyager probe, a gift for the Council of Twelve.

  Every member of which was now dead. The council itself abolished 4,812 years ago, after an incident with a gas cloud which proved once and for all that diplomatic missions and fire breathing dragons do not mix.

  At least not on a spaceship.

  All this Katra gleaned from the overstuffed office she found herself in. Posters covered the walls, telling the history of this weird planet through snippets of Public Service Announcements. The Council’s abolition was a stark reminder not to travel through nebulas in the first place.

  They tried the gas – and ended civilization. Don’t gas and drive.

  The entire floor space was taken up by her pod, two chairs, and a desk, so Katra had to tuck her legs under her seat since there was no room to put them down. Across from her sat what appeared to be a formless blob of gelatin, which wobbled back and forth on its hovering chair, as if waiting for her to speak. Every once and a while, a paper on its desk would ruffle, though how it was moving Katra had no idea.

  “You understand your visa has long since expired, yes?” the blob said. The voice was loud, and somehow directly in Katra’s mind, which made her spine tingle. She had never met a telepathic alien before, nor any kind of alien, so the entire experience was a little unnerving, to say the least.

  “Yes, but, what happened?” she asked, trying to keep her still thawing limbs from trembling. “I was supposed to meet Chancellor Forbin and…”

  “As I explained earlier,” said the blob’s voice, somehow conveying a sigh through its haughty mightier-than-thou airy voice. “Chancellor Forbin has been dead for over thirteen millennia.”

  “But the trip was only supposed to take fifty years,” Katra protested, “and where is Marcus?”

  “Marcus?”

  “Yes, my bodyguard, Marcus. We were put in cryo-sleep together.”

  “Ah, the male.” The blob mentally ruffled the pages on the desk. “I thought they explained after they woke you? And your visit to a dislocation officer didn’t make it clear to you?”

  “I’m not quite sure what a dislocation officer is, exactly.”

  Katra looked down at her lap and tried to avoid eye contact. Not that there were any eyes to latch onto, but gazing in the blob’s general direction made her mind swim uncomfortably.

  “You’ve been sent to see a dislocation officer – me – because your traveling companion’s mind was too damaged by the time spent in the cryo-sleep.”

  “Marcus is dead?”

  Katra couldn’t help but glare at the blob in complete shock. Marcus. Dead. He was – no, had been – more than just her bodyguard and constant companion. The two of them had been engaged to be married upon their triumphant return to Earth.

  And now he was dead. And was there even an Earth to return to?

  She wanted desperately to ask all those questions, and more. But she was face to face with a sentient slice of Jell-O and not quite sure how to proceed.

  Her heart shook with silent, terrified grief.

  “His body passed away not long after your departure from the planet formerly known as Earth,” said the blob, “though… how much do you know about dislocation?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Ah.” The blob seemed to hesitate. “Did the officer who put you in the chamber explain the process employed to preserve your body during the cryogenic session?”

  “Vaguely,” Katra replied. It might have been thousands of years ago in history, but for her it was less than an hour ago that the strange man with gray skin had hastily sputtered some space jargon before sealing her and Marcus into the pods. That in turn was only minutes before she woke up in a strange orange room, surrounded by giant lizard-men trying to spray her down with a hose.

  “So you know the consciousness is downloaded to a quantum cell, in case the physical mind is damaged in transit.”

  Katra’s heart leapt. “So Marcus’s mind is still alive?”

  “Yes, and no,” the blob almost seemed embarrassed at this. It was hard to tell, what with the lack of facial expressions. Or any face to speak of, for that matter. “Due to a malfunction that must have occurred during the incident that destroyed the male’s physical mind, his upload was compiled with yours. So when you awoke…”

  “Shut. Up!” Katra could almost shout with glee. “He’s alive? In my head?”

  “Yes,” the cloud said, perplexed, “you do not find this perturbing?”

  “We were to get married!” she sputtered, “this is even better! Two minds, one body. For as long as we both shall live, in sickness and in health. This is better than marriage!”

  The blob swiftly tossed a stack of papers into the trash. Katra’s excitement faded. She had probably just lost a massive bargaining chip with her outburst.

  Marcus? Are you in there? I need you. I’m making a mess.

  Nothing.

  “You sure he’s in here?” she asked. The news alone was enough to bring heat back to her chest, drawing out the ice forever. “Safe and sound?”

  “Yes, the download was definitely complete,” the blob said proudly, “your mate’s consciousness is safely in your head. But he may not present himself at first: he must carve a space in your gray matter. Humans have gray matter, correct?”

  Katra nodded, though not entirely sure. It was the future, after all; maybe modern humans had done away with the stuff entirely at this point.

  “Once the consciousness emerges, he may try to take control of his new host body. We apologize for any inconvenience this brings you.”

  “What is inconvenient is me being here in the first place,” said Katra, her spark finally returning. Maybe it was the news that Marcus was safe and hers alone; maybe it was the heat creeping back into her extremities. Either way, she was majorly pissed. She crossed her arms over her chest and propped her extremely long legs on the blob’s desk.

  The blob said nothing. Katra wondered how it even saw what she was doing.

  “How come I wasn’t woken up in time for the pageant?” she spat, “the engineers calculated everything perfectly. A fifty-year trip, not a minute longer. What happened?”

  “Well, this is closer to ancient history for us, now,” said the blob, “you understand, a year after your departure for Earth, fast
er than light travel was invented.”

  “So?”

  “The council decided they didn’t want to wait another forty-nine years for you to arrive at the pageant when they could have everyone show up the next day. So Earth sent someone else.”

  “Who?” Katra slammed her hands on the table, making the Jell-O wobble. Which was an odd sight to see. It wobbled to one side and then back, like someone had poked it with a stick. “Don’t tell me it was that bitch, Riley. Miss Australia? She had no place as my runner up.”

  “Then you’ll be happy to know that Miss Earth – formerly Miss Australia, according to my notes – was eaten and digested by Miss Ma’jarkeen. Which is why the pageant was canceled and hasn’t been held since.”

  “So our ship got there and you… what? Put us in a warehouse and forgot to revive us for thousands of years?”

  “I’m sorry, not my department,” said the mound of gelatin, “I’ve already outstepped by pulling up so much information from this case. To make things short: we’re sorry for the inconvenience, and we’re sending you home right away.”

  “To Earth?”

  “It used to be called Earth, yes.”

  “What is it now?”

  “Super-freaky funland dark-side death-zone powered by MnM.”

  “You call that my home?” Katra sputtered. She would have stood up, indignant, but there was no space for her to do so in the tiny office. “What the fudge is super-strange dark world death thingy?”

  “Super-freaky funland dark-side death-zone powered by MnM.”

  “That can’t be Earth!”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but things change, child,” said the blob. “Your home planet had to make ends meet somehow. Becoming an escape room theme park was the logical choice.”

  “An escape room… theme park?”

  Katra felt as if the ice around her heart had gone right back to being frozen, as cold as the popsicle she had been inside the pod. She wished her eyes could shoot literal daggers across the room, but even if they did, she doubted they would hit the gelatin or harm it in any way.

  “Yes, and quite a nice one,” said the blob. “I brought my hovel-mates there a few cycles ago. Such fun! Much better now than it ever was before.”

  The pageant queen was fuming now, but she forced herself through the breathing techniques her coach had instilled in her and stayed focused. There was no point lingering on the fact that her home was gone, or the fact that everyone she ever knew or loved was now dead. Except maybe Marcus, her one love, her rock, who was living quite silently in her head.

  “I want to go home,” she murmured, under her breath.

  “Do not worry, we’re sending you back, all expenses paid.”

  “It’s not my home anymore.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but according to your passport, it is.” The cloud made the little green booklet drift up before Katra’s eyes. “And your visa expired quite some time ago. So we have to send you back. You understand, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Katra, keeping that pageant calmness. “Do I get some kind of compensation, at least?”

  Chapter 2

  We’re not here to make friends, but we’re going to make something

  She did, of course, get compensation. But she wasn’t quite sure what to do with the roll of aluminum foil wrapped in plastic, the little blue backpack with shapes on it that she couldn’t decipher, or the bottle of drink that looked a lot like chocolate milk.

  One perk had been the little translator they had given her. The one thing that confused her (just one? her mind interjected) was why it had to be a suppository.

  She stuffed her golden bikini and the ball gown into the new backpack along with the foil and the bottle before following a lizard-man to the docks. The voyager disk she sold back to the officer, in exchange for some petty cash, not that she knew what any of it was worth. She had only been unfrozen for about five hours, and already she was being sent home. No time to visit the planet – the one she had taken so much time to reach.

  She was supposed to be an ambassador. The first human to set foot on Slexia, a show of goodwill from her people to theirs. To cement Earth’s place in the universe and turn the council of twelve into the council of thirteen.

  They had not been the only postulants: over fifty different worlds had sent their most gorgeous specimens to compete in the Miss Universe pageant (though a more apt name might be Miss-This-Arm-Of-The-Milky-Way, despite the fact that the locals called this galaxy Todd). It didn’t matter who won, the true victory was through unity.

  She had taken too long though. They had sent someone else.

  She had failed.

  And now Marcus was dead, and she had absorbed his mind. She wanted to mourn the death of her lover, her fiancé, but she wasn’t sure what to think of him anymore. There was no body to cry over. No last note. No nothing.

  The dislocation officer had told her that his mind was in hers, but Katra had yet to hear a peep from him. Was he really in there? She concentrated on her thought patterns, trying to see if anything was amiss – if anything pointed to Marcus being in there.

  No luck.

  “Watch the frozzle where you’re going, lady!”

  Katra had been concentrating so hard on her own thoughts that she had practically tripped over what appeared to be a small child. Only about half her height (which wasn’t too difficult, seeing as how Katra was a powerful 6”1’ even without her heels) but with a scowl that could eclipse the sun, the sun girl looked like she had murder in her eyes.

  “Sorry,” Katra said quickly, before processing what the child had said, “Does your mom hear you speaking like this?”

  “Mom’s been dead for centuries, but that’s none of your frozzing business,” said the kid, glaring.

  “How…”

  “Have a pleasant trip back, ma’am,” the lizard person who had been hired to guide her said politely, rapping a sharp claw along the tip of its nose. Was that some kind of polite gesture? Katra didn’t know, she hadn’t had the time to catch up on thirteen thousand years of galactic culture. She had barely learned their common language before they had jammed her inside her pod to be shipped off into the stars, and was pleasantly surprised she was managing to communicate so well.

  Or maybe it was the translator slowly dissolving in her colon.

  “You gotta tip the guide,” hissed the kid.

  “I don’t have anything to tip it with,” Katra said back.

  At that, the girl yanked Katra’s pack from her hand and ripped it open. She pulled out the gold bikini and handed it to the reptile. Well, less of handed, and more like slammed the little garment into its scaly open hand.

  “This should do the trick.” The glare turned into a grin, and the lizard person smiled too.

  “Gods shine brightly upon you,” it said, and dashed off, clutching the flimsy golden material tightly in its claws. Katra didn’t know what use it would even be to an alien, but at least it was something.

  “Jesipax,” said the kid, extending a hand to shake Katra’s. “Call me Jesi, call me Pax, whatever you frozzing want.”

  Katra shook back, wondering how a simple handshake could still exist in the universe.

  “Katra.”

  “Wow, old much?” the kid snorted. “My great-great-great grandmother was called Katra, and I haven’t met anyone with the name since she died.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “What use is sorry when you have a universe to explore? Come along. Welcome to the Beyoncé.”

  “What the froz?” Katra’s hands rushed to her mouth. “Froz. Come on, Froz. Froz! Why aren’t I saying Froz?”

  “You took their translator, didn’t you?” The little girl – who wasn’t all that little – gave her a soft smile. “These guys believe they can clean up the universe by cleaning up our language. But whatever, it’s still froz anyway you say it. Just be happy they didn’t give you the one that makes you say Fudge or Sugar. Come along!”

&n
bsp; Katra chewed her mouth around the word. She could say it fine, but the sound came out all wrong. She hated the idea of someone in her head controlling what she said.

  “Hold on! You said this ship is called the Beyoncé?”

  “Um, yeah. You coming?”

  Katra didn’t have the energy to do anymore asking – more questions would have to come later. She glanced up at the non-kid: Jesi hadn’t yet given back the backpack. She stomped up the stairs to the ship’s door with the kind of aggravated stomp of a toddler about to throw a tantrum. She couldn’t have been older than nine, but she sure wasn’t acting like any preteen Katra had ever met.

  “This your first time being dislocated?” asked Jesi.

  “Hopefully my last,” Katra replied, nodding.

  “Ah. It’s my third. I’d say you get used to it, but you really don’t. New body? Why did you go with such an outdated model? Is that all they had in stock?”

  “Erm, no?” Katra was trying to take in the polished interior of the ship as they walked, but Jesi was moving too fast. The ship was large and long, shaped a little like a shoehorn, and the interior was crisp and white with a lot of mustard yellow accents.

  If they even were accents. Katra realized she didn’t want to know.

  “The good thing about being dislocated is that if they frozzle up badly enough, they’ll give you a really young model,” she explained, “Which is how I got this beauty here. Extended my life by eighty years or so. It’s wonderful. But I’m horny as froz, which is going to suck for the next few years.”

  Katra gagged at hearing the words come from a child’s mouth. But it was making sense now: how Jesi’s personality was such a mismatch for her small, innocent body; how such vulgarities could come from such a tiny mouth.

  “Nobody told me what’s happening,” said Katra, following the non-child through the ship. “Are they going to help us find a place to live or anything? What happens when we get there?”

  “Oh, we belong to the FunCorp,” the girl replied. “We’ll be working the attractions.”