Space Cowboy

They had entered another thick dark forest, when Jim stopped short. "Wait! I really don't think we should stay in here." He looked around himself, convinced to find glowing eyes pointed at him. But there was nothing. Everything was quiet and peaceful.

"No! This is the only place where we're safe. We have to stay in the shadows. We have to avoid the streets and villages if we don't want to get caught again." Glitch had taken his hands and looked at him anxiously.

Slowly but surely, Jim grew suspicious of this strange guy with the shaggy hair and the ragged clothes. "But they're the authorities around here, right? They're the good guys. Why are we running from them?" he inquired.

Glitch stared at him in disbelieve. "Am I the one without a brain or is it you?" he asked, pointing at the zipper on his head. Jim hadn't even noticed it until now. "They had you restrained and dragged you after a horse. You think they're the good guys?"

"They had their reasons. I'm a suspicious looking guy, carrying a weapon, with no means to identify myself. I would have arrested myself too. I have to admit they were pretty rough, though," Jim shrugged. He'd been through this on countless planets. The inhabitants were always wary of their arrival. Being questioned about his origin was nothing new to him.

Glitch gave him a once-over. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, sure not!" He laughed, pulling at his golden uniform shirt for emphasis.

"Then, I guess I should explain a few things to you. The Long Coats…," Glitch conceded.

"You mean the guys who arrested me?" Jim interrupted.

"Who else? Anyway, they work for the Witch, which means yes, they are the authorities…," Glitch continued.

"Wait! Who's the Witch?" Jim interjected again.

"Would you stop that? I already have to concentrate to stay on track here. I don't need you keep interrupting me!" the headcase hissed. But it was too late. He blinked in confusion. "What were we talking about?"

"The Witch…," the captain reminded him.

"What witch?" the brunette was still confused.

Jim laid a hand on his arm, scrutinizing him. "You sure they didn't hit you on the head?"

Glitch had his head inclined. The mist of confusion slowly dissolved from the chocolate brown eyes. "The Witch! The Wicked Witch! She rules over the O.Z. – and before you ask, that's where you are!" He pointed a finger at Jim before he could even open his mouth to ask any questions. "The Long Coats are her mignons. And they're nothing like good guys. If they get you, they will do horrible things to you! See this zipper?" He pointed at it. "That's what happens when you disobey. I didn't give them what they wanted, and they took my brain!" He made a dramatic pause to let the information sink in. "So, you still want to be questioned by them?"

Jim was unsure what to do with this story. He knew nothing about this place, and this scatterbrain sure didn't seem too trustworthy either. This funny guy believed to have saved him, but was that really the case? He had to find out more before he could decide what to do. "So, what was it they wanted from you?"

"Erm, hello! No brain! How am I supposed to know?" He knocked on his head for emphasis. "They didn't mess with your brain by any chance?" Glitch reached up and felt the blonde crop for a zipper for good measure.

He saw the doubt in the blazing blue eyes. "Look, I' not a convict! – I'm sure I'm not – I was a pretty important person under the reign of the former queen, I think…" He scratched his head in confusion, a little surprised himself by all the new information his head suddenly provided him with. But he was almost convinced it was the truth. He had been close to the queen, but then the Witch had taken over and everything had gone to blazes. Unfortunately, that was still all his memory offered.

"I know you wonder whether you can trust a headcase who doesn't even remember his name and can't focus for as much as five minutes. But what if I'm telling the truth? You really wanna risk that?"

Jim only looked at him, thinking. The scatterbrain had a point there, he had to admit. Maybe he wasn't as crazy as he seemed after all. He considered his options: he could ignore Glitch's warnings and turn to the authorities for help as he'd originally planned, risking to be arrested and de-brained like the poor fellow in front of him – not a pleasant idea. Or he could believe this mad story and keep away from the authorities, but that would leave him with yet another problem. He still needed access to any kind of astronomical devices they might have on this planet to contact the ship and get out of here – and the more he learned about this place, the more desperately he wanted to get the hell out of here. But what if they didn't even have a technology that could be of use to him? He could feel a headache building behind his brow and sighed. Maybe he should try and get some more information out of the scarecrow, for whatever value that might have.

"Say," he addressed Glitch who had wandered off chasing a butterfly while he'd been lost in his thoughts, forgetting about him, and now looked at him like a deer in the headlights. He inclined his head.

"You're…" His brow furrowed in concentration. "…Jim, right?" he smiled brightly.

"Yeah," Jim returned the smile wearily, "say, haven't you wondered where I come from?"

The curly head thought about it. "Sure, but maybe you don't wanna to talk about it, and I don't think I'd know the place anyway. I'm not even sure where this is…," he rambled on.

"I come from a starship. Do you know what a starship is?"

A spark lit in Glitch's eyes as he looked toward the sky, searching. "You mean you sail between the stars on a ship? …I've always dreamt of building one. Where is it? Can you take me there some time?" he asked excitedly.

"We'll see about that," Jim avoided the question. "First of all, I need to find a way to contact my ship. I'm stranded down here and can't seem to reach them. My communicator must be broken, and I don't have any tools to repair it." He took the device from his belt and showed it to Glitch.

Again the brown eyes were lit by a fascinated sparkle. He held out his hands. "Can I see it?" Jim handed it over, and Glitch opened it and turned it in his hands, a concentrated expression on his face. "I can repair it," he stated matter-of-factly.

Instantly, Jim regretted handing it over in the first place. "I don't know about that…" he began, reaching for the communicator.

But Glitch turned away from him and rummaged through his coat pockets, producing an exquisitely adorned leather case. "I got tools," he beamed and held it up. He opened it and revealed professional and well-kept precision tools.

Jim wondered why a brainless tramp had such a gear on him. Had he stolen it? "I don't know. Maybe we should find someone who actually… knows… what he's doing," he tried again, careful not to hurt the other's feelings. It was pretty obvious he already was self-conscious about his condition.

Glitch didn't take any offence, though. Instead he explained proudly, "You see, I think I'm the only one in the entire kingdom who actually understands the workings of something like this."

The captain looked at him stunned. Suddenly, he sounded so sure of himself. He noticed the change in Glitch's eyes: had the look been distracted and unfocused before, it was now determined and full of expertise. It was like a long dead flame had rekindled in them. The expression even reminded him a little of Spock when he was focusing on a new fascinating project.

While he observed him closely, he also saw that under all the dirt and the loose threads, the coat Glitch wore was made of finest wool and had once been richly embroidered. It greatly resembled the uniforms of aristocrats he'd seen on various planets. That would match his story of having been a very important figure in the previous government. He still didn't have much to go by, but he had a feeling that all the pieces were slowly falling into place. And as unbelievable as it might seem, the pieces indeed seemed to point to Glitch having told the truth.

Jim knew it was probably a bad idea to blindly trust a lunatic like this one. But there was something about him, Jim couldn't quite put a name to, that drew him to this funny little scatterbrain. His gut feeling told him to trust him, and Jim had always followed his gut, and it had barely ever failed him. So he decided to go with it this time, as well, and give Glitch a go at the communicator, even though in his head he could almost hear Spock lecturing him about all the ways he was being stupid here.

Glitch himself could hardly believe the confidence with which he promised he could repair the device. Yet, deep in his soul he knew he was right. He couldn't explain it. He just knew. Only this morning his mind had been completely blank. But ever since he'd met this strange man that lived among the stars, he had an increasingly better grip on who he might be.

His hands twitched with excitement at the prospect of taking the device Jim called a communicator apart and study its workings. It almost seemed like his hands knew what to do, though his mind didn't have the least clue.

Once Jim conceded, he set to work. He spread his coat on the soil and carefully placed the communicator and his tools on top to make sure not a single piece was lost or got dirty. Then he used the screwdriver to open the casing. Expertly, he took the maze of wires and processors apart, his hands moving in autopilot like the movements were engraved into his bones, his muscles. It didn't take long and he was completely absorbed in his work, fascinated by the refined piece of technology in front of him. He was pretty sure he'd never seen anything like it before – not that he'd remembered anyway.

At first, Jim hovered over him, nervously watching his every move. But when he saw how carefully, almost tenderly Glitch treated every piece he relaxed and gave him more room. He didn't dare talk to him, afraid that any kind of distraction might cause another of those glitches where he seemed to forget about anything he'd been doing a second ago.

He wouldn't be of much use anyway. Fine mechanics just weren't his expertise. He'd learned as a child from his uncle how to repair the antique Corvette – until he drove it over a cliff and received the beating of a lifetime, that is. He'd always enjoyed tinkering with engines, had even built his own bike as a teenager. And he loved to talk shop about the Enterprise engines with Scotty over a good Scotch. But when it came to the delicate wirings of things like computers or communicators he simply lost his patience. He just didn't have the steady hand required for this work.

He left Glitch to his work – he'd probably long since forgotten he was even there anyway – and wandered the vicinity. He was still cautious of whatever might be lurking in the shadows between the trees, keeping his ears open all the time. But this forest had nothing of the obscure oppressive atmosphere of the forest he'd stumbled through only a few days ago. This place seemed lighter, friendlier in a way. And he hadn't heard the growling of any predator all afternoon.

Still, the suns were slowly setting, and they would need firewood for the night. And his stomach painfully reminded him that they hadn't eaten all day. He collected any fruits and berries he deemed edible. He even shortly considered shooting a rodent he saw browsing a clearing. But he just couldn't bring himself to kill it. The fruits would have to do.

He returned with food and firewood to find Glitch still bent over the remains of his communicator. Something about his posture had changed, though. Before, he'd sat with his back straight, mumbling about the parts he was currently taking apart. Now, he seemed to have almost curled in on himself. His back was humped and his head rested on his hand, while the other played lazily with the spare parts. All confidence was gone from his posture. "This wire connects… this wire connects…," he kept mumbling in endless repetition.

Jim sensed immediately what had happened. Just as he'd feared before the scatterbrain had another fit. He sighed. Great, the communicator lay in pieces, and the only one who might have known how to put them back together probably didn't even remember his own name, not to mention what he was supposed to do with the mess he'd created. Things just got better and better. If only he'd listened to Spock's voice in his head, warning him not to entrust a man without a brain to repair highly advanced technology. What had he been thinking? He must've been really hypoglycemic to actually consider this a good idea. Now, he really needed a miracle to get away from here. The headache formed once again.

Glitch was not to blame though, he decided. The man couldn't be held responsible for having no brain. And right now, he didn't feel that much more intelligent either.

He approached him slowly, careful not to scare him. He probably didn't even remember who he was in the first place. "Hey, Glitch," he called softly to draw him out of his seemingly infinite loop.

The brunette fell silent and looked up at him, brown eyes wide in confusion. "Glitch… that's me!" he beamed, then inclined his head, thinking. "Do I know you?"

The captain threw what he hoped was the most reassuring smile at him, as he came closer, putting down the wood along the way. "I'm Jim. Remember? You saved my sorry ass out there."

Glitch looked at him, concentrated, nearly cross-eyed. "Jim…? Jim…?" he mumbled over and over again, as if the name could trigger the memory connected to it.

"Maybe that's what caused the fit in the first place," Jim thought. Glitch had been thinking real hard about the purpose of a special part and then the connection had just broken down, leaving him in an infinite loop of repetition. Jim felt sorry for him. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like to be caught in your own brain.

"The Space Cowboy," Glitch suddenly exclaimed, jumping up excitedly, bringing Jim out of his own marveling. He couldn't help but return the wide grin Glitch was showing him, overjoyed to have remembered.

The grin disappeared as fast as it had come out, though, when Glitch's gaze fell upon the pieces scattered on his coat. He sat down soberly. "I'm sorry about your… what'd you call it?" His hand waved over the mess helplessly as he struggled for the word.

"A communicator," Jim explained softly.

"Right... I don't think I can repair it after all. Sorry." He looked up at him apologetically, dejectedly. "I have no idea what I was thinking before. I'm just a scarecrow without a brain. What could I possibly do?" He threw up his scrawny arms in desperation, hiding his face behind the messy brown curls.

Jim sat down beside him and carefully put a hand on his shoulder. "No, don't say that. Look, I watched you working before and you knew perfectly well what you were doing. It's just that you forgot along the way. It will come back eventually," he tried to cheer him up, surprising himself with how easily his initial anger and desperation faded, as the pathetic bundle collapsed against his chest.

"You really think so?" He looked up at him from under his curls, tears shining in his eyes.

"Of course!" Jim smiled. "It's getting dark anyway, and there's nothing we can do about it today. I brought wood and food. So what do you say, you collect that junk and I start a fire? And then we'll grab a bite. You must be starving. We'll worry about the rest 'll have to help me, though. I have no idea what of the stuff I collected is actually edible."

As always, Glitch had completely forgotten about food. But as Jim mentioned it, he could feel his stomach clench up painfully with anticipation. He sat up and smiled at Jim, "You know, sometimes I really think you're even more out of your mind than I am."