Tim-Tam & the Space Pirates: Race to the Phantom Moon

By Wayne Goodman

If you could go anywhere and do anything you wanted, what would you choose?
Join non-identical twins Timothy (Tim) and Tamara (Tam) on their adventures aboard the intergalactic, interdimensional space pirate ship Richard the Fourth. Meet strange aliens, travel to places no human has ever gone, and get home in time for dinner. Their first big mission together is to collect phantom matter that the craft needs for propulsion.

"Wow! What a great read! Mr. Goodman's story 'Tim-Tam & the Space Pirates' is fun, wacky, crazy, and cool. I couldn't stop reading it. If I could have been there, I would've loved tagging along with Tim and Tam on their spaceship adventures!"
--Myla J. Winkfield

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wayne Goodman
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734470031

Wayne Goodman

Wayne Goodman has lived in the San Francisco Bay Area most of his life (with too many cats). He hosts Queer Words Podcast, conversations with queer-identified authors about their works and lives. When not writing, Goodman enjoys playing Gilded Age parlor music on the piano, with an emphasis on women, gay, and Black composers.

Book preview

Tim-Tam & the

Space Pirates:

Race to the

Phantom Moon

by

Wayne Goodman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

First paperback printing, December 2020

ISBN: 978-1-7344700-3-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020948858

Copyright © 2020, Wayne Goodman

Acknowledgments

As always, the first person to hear any of my writings, the person who has put up with me and my quirkiness, the person who graces my mornings, my afternoons, my evenings, my life, Richard May.

Another big, big thank you goes to my writing group, the Benicia Outlaw Writers, without whom my works would not be as refined.

I can never forget Jericho Wilson for critiquing the original version of this book and encouraging me to steer it in a much better direction.

Also, I want to acknowledge Greg Stadler for attempting to provide guidance (that I probably did not follow) with graphic layout and typography.

Lastly, to you, the person reading this book.

Thank you. Thank you, all.

Table of Contents

1. Timmy

2. Wheelhouse

3. M.O.M.

4. Vlen

5. Heads

6. Beacon

7. Wunst

8. Marty-Mart

9. Tammy

10. Time-Space

11. Duty

12. Dad

13. Fabricator

14. Buster

15. Purring

16. Training

17. Derivatives

18. Translation

19. Snops

20. Home

21. Toond

22. Ard

23. Dullsville

24. Shipboard

25. Retsub

26. Practice

27. Execution

28. Denouement

If you could go anywhere and do anything you wanted,

what would you choose?

1. Timmy

Everything happened so fast Timmy had no time to think. And he liked to think. He liked to think he was the smartest boy in the uninspiring city of Dullsville (named after its founder, Dudley Dull), the smartest boy in the entire uninteresting state where his family lived, and, indeed, the smartest boy in the whole unexciting country.

He had been sitting at the desk beneath his loft bed. Spaceships and astronauts floating in the cosmos adorned the sheets and pillowcases. After finishing homework, he started playing Freeboots of the Future, his favorite online multiplayer game. Timmy’s avatar, Irwin the Irascible, in command of the star frigate Buttermulk, was just about to finish off Lord Lepton’s dreadnought when it happened.

A loud crackling pop compelled him to spin around. Two piles of sparkling diamonds and shiny gold nuggets had appeared on the floor behind him. He reached for the treasures.

If you had been there, you would have done the same thing. Who could resist jewels and spoils?

The crackling pop repeated and a shiny, sparky, sparkly rift opened in the space next to the booty. An older fellow with a jeweled eyepatch stepped through.

If he had time to think, Timmy might have imagined this man a pirate of the Spanish Main, except the style of his long coat seemed more angular and synthetic. His black hat had a flashy white beacon on its peak. At his waist hung a variety of odd objects, things that looked like metal tubes or plastic sticks. He scanned the room, then stared with the one gray eye at Timmy, who stared right back. The pirate held a dark, L-shaped device that might have been a gun, but he didn’t point it at Timmy. He made a little nod with his gray bearded head.

From behind the guy with the eyepatch stepped something that looked like a puke-colored carrot with six limbs almost as tall as the ceiling. Two of its three eyes squinted, and its chest area turned more of a pale aqua toothpaste color.

If you had been there, you might have thought it smelled like the produce section of a grocery store.

Timmy stared, jaw hanging, at the two beings who had appeared out of nowhere in his bedroom. Before he could scream, shout, or otherwise alert someone, the carroty creature touched Timmy with a long rod it held in one of its hands–which looked more like large claws–and Timmy lost consciousness.

Years before, a Dullsville mother, Mrs. Crutchfield, had given birth to twins. Timothy arrived first, but Tamara followed, grasping her brother’s heel (something he frequently used to remind her who’s oldest). Nature had played the nearly-impossible statistical trick of giving them entirely different genetic material.

While Timothy (who preferred to be called Timmy) got intellectual smarts, Tamara (who preferred to be called Tammy) got social smarts. Timmy could recite the value of pi to more than 20 digits (a somewhat useless skill), but Tammy could make more than 20 new friends with pie (a somewhat useful skill).

Timmy liked to talk about pirates. Swashbuckling, booty, keelhauling, privateering. He imagined himself aboard an 18th Century sailing ship. Tammy preferred to talk about Buster, a teenage pop songwriter/singer. She imagined herself with her school friends in the front row at his concerts.

They both attended the same school and had the same classes. Timmy’s friends frequently teased him about his sister not remembering homework lessons. Tammy’s friends frequently teased her about her brother being a geek.

As an example, in a recent history class, their assignment had been to study The War of the Roses. Mr. Cronski, the teacher, asked who knew the name of the king who had imprisoned his nephews in the Tower of London. Tammy had not been paying attention, and she accidentally stretched her arm upward as if yawning. The teacher’s eyebrow bounced high on his forehead, as Tammy had never volunteered to answer a question before. Tammy? called the teacher.

Hmmmm? she responded. What is this about? She looked at the faces of her nearby friends for assistance.

"War of the Roses," whispered the girl next to her.

Tammy stood without hurry, as if stacking one vertebra atop another as she rose. Who is this Rose of the Wars? Was she popular? She looked around the classroom as her friends laughed with her and Timmy’s friends laughed at her.

Mr. Cronski cleared his throat. I asked who was the king who imprisoned his nephews in the Tower of London.

"Richard…" prompted her classmate.

Tammy pressed her hand forward, thumb tucked into the palm, four fingers pointing up, as if admiring her nails. Richard the Fourth. She sat down.

While the rest of the class laughed at the presumably erroneous answer, Timmy’s friends poked him in the ribs, as if he was responsible for his sister’s incorrect response. There was no Richard the Fourth! one of them shouted.

Yes, there is, Tammy said to herself.

When he regained consciousness, Timmy found himself sitting in a small, dim, square room. He stood and felt around the smooth, cool gray walls. At one place he touched a panel with a different texture that might have been a door, but it had no knob. He checked the walls next to it for buttons but found none.

If you had been there, it might have felt scary to be plucked from the safety of your bedroom and find yourself in this gray little place.

Some sort of foggy rift had opened behind him in his bedroom and two people–or one people and a creature–came through and stunned him. Given that one of them did not look human, the possibility existed that he might be on another planet or some spectacular spaceship. The air seemed breathable, but it had a slight metallic or chemical smell. Not too warm or too cold. Timmy hopped a few times to check the gravity, and he remained airborne for a fraction of a second longer than at home. After a few repetitions, a big smile formed on his face. He was no longer in Dullsville.

Jumping caused his belly to rumble. From one of his pockets, he retrieved a turkey stick stashed there as an after-school snack, and he began to munch on that.

The floor began to shake as if he were in a moving vehicle. Still a bit wobbly from being stunned, Timmy sat with his back to a wall and fell asleep within a minute.

Tammy referred to her twin as Space Boy because of his preoccupation with all things galactic (along with pirate stuff). She and her friends giggled over this as they listened to the latest Buster songs during lunch. Some of their classmates had made fun of her because she had answered, Richard the Fourth. They may have thought there was no Richard the Fourth, but Tammy knew there was. She had been aboard it many times.

When Timmy woke, Tammy stood glaring down at him. Instead of her regular fashionable clothes, she wore a one-piece, gray body suit. Finally, she snarked.

Where am I?

Tammy rolled her eyes. "Richard the Fourth. Duh."

What?

It’s our ship. She exhaled loud enough for Timmy to hear her annoyance. Welcome aboard.

A ship? What kind of ship? Timmy looked around the small space. Tammy, where are we?

It’s just Tam now, she responded. And you’re Tim. One syllable names only.

But, Tammy –

Tam, Tim. She reached a hand down to him. Get up. I’m taking you to the M.O.M.

Mom’s here, too?

"No, Space Boy. The M.O.M., not our mom."

Sister lifted brother and stepped to the differently-textured panel. She closed her eyes and it opened. Tammy stepped through and Timmy followed into another dimly-lit room with cool gray walls. The door closed behind them.

Wait here and the M.O.M. will be with you soon, she instructed.

"The mom?" Timmy’s voice squeaked a little.

Just wait. I have other things to do. See you later. She turned to the doorway, closed her eyes, waited for the panel to open and stepped through.

Mom? Timmy cried out.

If you had been there, you might have called for your mother, too.

2. Wheelhouse

The walls of the room flashed teal then back to gray. Teal, gray, teal, gray. Over and over. Timmy stared at the changing colors, attempting to puzzle out their meaning.

Tammy appeared at the portal and entered the room. Come on, Tim. We have to go to the wheelhouse, she commanded. Her brother just stared at her. Hurry! If we don’t help, we won’t get reward. She beckoned him, waving her hand as hard she could, faster than when trying to dry her fingernails. You have to stand here. She pointed to the spot next to her.

But what about the M.O.M. thing?

Tammy never seemed in a hurry or ever displayed any indication of being under pressure at home. However, her wide-open eyes and drops of sweat on her forehead communicated an unspoken imperative.

We’ll do that later. Tammy looked back at her brother. "It’s important we go now!"

Timmy moved next to his twin. She shut her eyes and the door opened. As they passed through, his eyes went wide. Rather than the small room he had just come from, he saw an enormous chamber with curving stairways stretched in all directions and a central shaft with four enormous metal wheels, each with long spokes, pointed outwards. Some of the ramps and flights of stairs appeared upside-down, vertical, or even twisted like a Möbius strip.

If you had been there,