The great escape of Laurence and the Gritter
“Would you mind terribly if I asked you to kill me?” said the most scrawny Gritter Laurence had ever seen (and mind you, he hadn’t seen many. Laurence was a real stand-up guy, after all, not some star stalker).
“Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but you see, we find ourselves in this particular predicament, and well, don’t you think we at least ought to try and do something about it? What do you say, Earther? It will be quick, I promise,” the Gritter smiled the most sinister smile Laurence had ever seen, showing off all his artificially sharpened teeth. They twinkled in the semidarkness of the cargo hatch. Were they diamonds? They must’ve cost him a small fortune.
At first, he thought it better to ignore the creature altogether. He focused on biting his nails instead, seeing as it was the only stress reliever available to him at this time. The Gritter couldn’t even do that since A: he most likely didn’t have any nails to bite and B: he was all but covered in a don’t-move-plasma, which was why he needed Laurence’s help to off himself in the first place. Their captors apparently knew well enough what the Gritter was and didn’t want to take any chances, at the same time grossly underestimating Laurence and the potential of human hands.
“Don’t be like that, Earther. We must stick together, you and I. Don’t you realize what they’re going to do to us? We’ll end up on some slave market in U345-Z or Dzaltz, or worse. They’ll run out of food and eat us. Mind you, to them, we’re as good a source of protein as any, no difference if we can talk or not. Come on, be a good sport and kill me. How about it?”
Laurance thought about it for a moment. It really was a shitty situation he was in, and he wouldn’t mind a way out, but to kill a Gritter? No, he couldn’t risk it.
“Listen, I know you mean well and all,” he addressed his fellow captive, “but I’d rather not if that’s alright with you.”
“So that’s a definite no then?” the Gritter asked.
“It would appear so, yes.”
“And there’s really nothing I could do to persuade you?”
“No, I’m afraid there isn’t.”
“Really, nothing?”
“Nothing that I could think of.”
“Oh well, ” the creature sighed, “at least you can’t say I haven’t tried, can you?”
“You did your best. You really did.”
The Gritter bobbed his head sadly. “We could’ve been a great team, you know? It’s such a shame, really, such wasted potential,” he said and wriggled deeper into his plasma cocoon, leaving Laurence alone with his nails and his thoughts.
The steel walls around him howled from strain, which meant the starship was gaining acceleration. It appeared their captors were in a hurry. Laurence started to imagine scenarios in which that was a good thing but couldn’t think of any.
“How would it look like if I were to kill you, anyway?” he asked.
“What? I can’t hear you very well from down here.”
“What would I have to do?”
“To kill me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s real simple. All you have to do is just stick your fingers in those three holes I use for breathing.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
But what would happen next after he killed the Gritter? The creature said it wasn’t sure since it had never died before (apparently, for a Gritter, it was rather young and inexperienced), but it could guarantee Laurence would be able to escape the ship then. Laurence really DID want to escape, but at the same time, all the childhood stories about trickster Gritters came flooding back into his memory. He simply couldn’t make up his mind. He was almost sure he wasn’t going to do it when the cargo hatch door slid open.
“Hua hua hua, wuha aaa,” said the creature that entered, pointing its gun straight at Laurence. Unfortunately, not everyone in the known cosmos spoke universal Earthspeak.
“Look,” Laurence tried as hard as he could to stay calm, “I think what we’re witnessing here is a big misunderstanding. My name is Laurence Bay, and I’m quite sure you made a mistake. If you were to, let’s say, let me go, I’ll give you my word as an Earthman that I will forget this unfortunate event ever happened. How does that sound?”
“Uha uha aaa ha,” the answer he got was as unintelligible to him as anything the creature had said before, but the gun's movements didn’t need any translation.
“He says you have to give him your shoes or else,” the Gritter translated.
“Or else what?”
“Or else he’ll shoot you, of course. I’d give them to him if I were you.”
“But I need my shoes. They’ve got antigravity mode, and they cost me good money.”
“Suit yourself, but he’s going to get the shoes one way or another if you know what I mean.”
So Laurence did what he was told to do: He gave away his precious gravity-defying footwear, and the creature left.
“We’re really going to die, aren’t we?” Laurence started sobbing quietly.
“Yes, we are, that is unless you can make up your mind and kill me first. I would advise you to do it sooner rather than later.”
The gravity of his present circumstance finally dawned on Laurence with full force. He was, to put it bluntly, royally screwed. He could either kill the Gritter in the hope that the creature would save him somehow (which he very much doubted) or do nothing and end up eaten or worse, working in some god-forsaken uranium mine AND THEN eaten.
“Okay, fine. I’ll do it,” he decided, walking slowly over to the plasma cocoon that covered the Gritter. Just try not to move too much, okay?”
“I won't move one bit, don’t you worry about that, Laurence,” the Gritter smiled again, exposing his disturbing set of teeth.“Just keep your fingers stuck in my windpipes as long as it takes ok.”
“Sure, sure thing, I’ll do that, just please try not to bite me and close your eyes,” he stuck three fingers in the three visible holes in the Gritter's body, just like the creature told him to, and waited. After a moment, he had to help himself, holding the Gritter down with his other free hand since the body in the cocoon started to convulse uncontrollably, and the Gritter's horribly sharp teeth started snapping at him. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but after a while, the creature finally stopped moving.
“And now what?” Laurence asked. In the same instant, he inhaled a yellowish mist that escaped the Gritter's now free breathing apparatus.
“Now,” said something inside his head, “we’re going to escape this shithole of a ship, Laurence.” His body started moving on its own. It walked over to the door and started doing something to the controls. Laurence thought he really shouldn’t have trusted a Gritter. He should’ve known better.
“Yes, you should have, but what’s done is done,” the Gritter in his mind appeared to be happy. It was now apparently in control of what used to be Laurence Bay.
It took a final glance at the unmoving cocoon. “You know, those teeth really did cost a small fortune, but no matter, we’ll get us some bigger, sharper ones.” The door slid open.