The Twiller
by David Derrico

Free Excerpt (Part I)

   The Veraxian ship was somehow even more bizarre to Ian that the previous one, and also a good deal more mean. What struck Ian first (quite literally) was the fact that the hallways were lined with rows of unhealthy-looking spikes. Why this was, Ian could not possibly imagine. It just seemed like a pointlessly mean thing to do.
   The barcalounger hovered before him, leading him into the ship. It turned a corner and directed Ian into a small cell.
   “Get in.”
   Seeing as how the cell didn’t look much more uncomfortable than the hallways, Ian obliged, squeezing past his captor and snagging his shirt in the process.
   The cell door slammed solidly closed, and Ian for some reason felt reassured that the Twiller had managed to follow him in. It looked at him questioningly.
   “What is it you want?” Ian asked, feeling as if he already knew the answer.
   “Tw-”
   “Yes, yes, I know. Twill. That is what you were going to say, right?”
   The Twiller lowered its large eyes to the floor.
   “I’m sorry,” Ian apologized, feeling like quite the cad. “I know it’s not your fault. But since we seem to be stuck together, we should find some way to communicate.”
   The Twiller seemed to nod, doing so by hovering its entire body up and down.
   “Very good, then. How about one ‘twill’ for yes and two for no?”
   “Twill.”
   “Is that a yes?”
   “Twill.”
   Ian considered this for a moment. “Are you saying yes?”
   “Twill.”
   “I need to ask some better questions, don’t I?”
   “Twill.”
   Ian sighed. “Okay. Are we trapped together in a cell?”
   “Twill.”
   “Twill. Yes, good. Now, are we going to be able to escape anytime soon?”
   “Twill twill.”
   “No. Very good.” Ian thought for a moment. “No, that’s actually not very good at all, now is it? In fact, I might go so far as to say that it is in fact the exact opposite of good. I might even go so far as to say that it is distinctly bad.”
   “Twill.”
   “Right.” Ian slumped down on the ground, wincing as he did so. The ground was rough and uneven, and, seeing as how it was inside an alien spaceship and not some naturally occurring structure, Ian could only assume that this was quite intentional.
   “I don’t think I quite like our new captors any more than I did our old ones,” Ian mused, looking around the tiny cell and its painfully-spiked walls. He wondered what sorts of horrible things they planned to do to his person. He wondered if they had any cucumber sandwiches, and if they might perhaps give him one. Looking around his cell, he guessed no on both counts.
   Ian felt a sudden disorientation as the Veraxian ship surged to incredible speed. Though he did not know it at the time, he was going considerably faster than the speed of light. In fact, the speed of light seems downright pokey once one has traveled in a Veraxian starship. Within a few minutes, the ship had stopped, and the door to Ian’s cage opened.
   “Follow me,” intoned the barcalounger, hovering in the open doorway. “Time to meet your maker.”

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