Contractor

Contractor

By Andrew S. Ball

Copyright 2014 Andrew S. Ball

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###

For my big sister, and my little sister, who

always made sure I didn’t do anything too

stupid.

###

• Title Page
  
• License Notes
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Epilogue
  
• Acknowledgements
  
• About the Author
  
• Novels by Andrew S. Ball
  

Chapter One

Bonaparte

There is little more frustrating to the

writer of a 25 page history paper than a

serious case of writer’s block that strikes at

page 24. Daniel Fitzgerald was in that

precise situation.

The little black bar that marked his

place in the word processor winked at him in

a cheery, ugly little taunt. He’d written for a

solid six hours, but the flow of text from his

brain and onto his keyboard had ground to a

halt. The mental exhaustion had caught up

with him. He squinted, and tapped his finger

on his desk, as if he was turning the key to a

stubborn ignition. It didn’t help.

That finger itched up to the little lock of

brown hair that hung down from his

forehead. His thoughts turned, and his finger

turned the little lock of hair across his skin,

wrapping it up, then letting it hang free. Then

wrapping it up again.

Two words slithered in from Daniel’s

window. "Good evening."

Daniel was mentally gliding over a

dizzying array of minute facts concerning the

arrangement of Napoleon’s armies at

Waterloo, so he was understandably zoned

out. The short greeting drifted over the

surface of his brain, but didn’t quite sink in.

And then it did.

He was alone. He hadn’t heard anyone

come in. He didn’t recognize the voice. He

turned his head away from the stacks of

reference books crowding his computer desk

and toward the source of the sound.

Hovering outside Daniel’s bedroom

windowsill was a person—only not quite,

because its head was that of a frog. It was

dressed in a purple and red pinstripe suit.

Round red eyes stared out from under a

wide-brimmed top hat covered with so many

colors and holographic stripes it made

Daniel’s eyes water. White-gloved hands

fingered a wooden baton.

The frog man offered a thin smile. "Your

pardon. I realize you must be busy, but I

would like to -"

Daniel sighed and turned back to his

computer. He stared at the blinking line on

his monitor. Nothing put him to sleep like

things he didn’t really want to do. The

Napoleonic Wars had seemed so interesting

at the time.

"Ahem." The frog tapped his cane on the

wall. "Might I come in?"

"Well, why the hell not?" Daniel said. "I haven’t had a lucid dream in forever." He

stretched his arms behind his head and spun

on his swivel chair. "Make yourself at

home."

He watched with mild interest as the

frog-person struggled to wedge itself through

the window. Spindly limbs that were too

long for its tiny torso made the process a bit

awkward. Once inside, it stood straight.

"May I sit?"

"Be my guest."

The frog swept its hat from its perch

over those red eyes and sat on the edge of

Daniel’s bed. "Thank you. Mr. Daniel

Thomas Fitzgerald, if I’m not mistaken?

Sometimes I muddle the pronunciation of

your names."

"You got it right this time. What are you

supposed to be?"

The frog looked miffed. "My full name

is Xikanthus Vol'mund Dovian

pom’Nafalstra, but you may call me Xik."

"Xik," Daniel said. "Welcome to my

dreams. What can I do for you?"

"I can see you’re the down-to-earth sort.

That is one of the more common

assumptions, but I can assure you this is not a

dream. You’ve been chosen for a purpose of

vital import."

"Awesome. Let’s hear it."

"…I’ve shielded the room so your

reaction didn’t alert your household, but I

suppose that was unnecessary. I understand

we look like one of your more common

amphibians?"

"Yeah, a frog," Daniel agreed.

"And yet you are…" Xik made a vague

gesture. "…nonplussed. I admit I expected a

measure of panic. Surprise, at least."

"I guess fantasy stories had to be

grounded in something," Daniel said. "Here

you are. Or maybe I’ve played too many

video games and I’m desensitized to the idea

of circus freaks popping in through my

bedroom window."

"I admit I’m abnormal by your

standards, but freak is too strong a term."

"Just calling it like I see it. Why the hell

are you wearing that?"

"…I expected a why-are-you-here, to be

honest."

"You’ve got quite a few expectations."

Daniel smirked. "You sneak into bedroom

windows often?"

"Ah…relatively speaking."

"Can I get you a drink? Water? Pond

scum?"

Xik made a face. "Clever." He inspected

the room for a moment. His big red frog eyes

traveled across Daniel’s plain door, stuck

with three movies posters; his gaze lingered

on his bookshelf. There was a stack of old

comic books there, collecting dust, and a

row of video game cases. Finally, he looked

back to Daniel’s face. "I’m fine, but thank

you."

"So, what’s this vital purpose I’ve been

chosen for? Need your gutters cleaned?"

"More like Earth needs its gutters

cleaned." Xik stood again, which Daniel

found odd, considering he’d asked to sit only

thirty seconds ago. His long legs put his head

close to the ceiling. "Daniel Fitzgerald. Your

world is under assault by a vicious race of

creatures known as the Vorid. Throughout the

multiverse, they feed upon the souls of

sentient life, and as such, are diametrically

and irrevocably opposed to any living,

breathing intelligence."

"Funny. I haven’t seen that on the news

lately."

"Magic assists them in remaining

clandestine, but rest assured, these creatures

are very active, and very intent on devouring

humanity." Xik leaned forward. "I am from

another universe that wages open war against

the Vorid. The multiverse, unfortunately, is a

very big place, and our resources are

pressed holding the Vorid where they are.

Our solution to this problem is to empower

other peoples to fight for themselves, thereby

opening multiple fronts against our common

enemy. You have been selected to receive a

means of fighting them on behalf of your

entire race."

Daniel gave a mock-solemn nod. "And

what does that entail, exactly, my amphibious

friend?"

"I am a contract manager, a point of

contact between Humans, and Klide, my own

species. Contract is an approximate term—

our languages aren’t neat equivalents." The

way Xik said the words made Daniel feel as

though he’d said them many times before. "Its

essence is an enchantment which unlocks the

magical power residing within sentient

creatures. Your science has not advanced

enough to do this for you, and so we’ve taken

the initiative ourselves. Agree to the

contract, and you will gain the power to

protect your home, and people." Xik clasped

his hands. "In time, you will be quite

something among your own kind. Your

abilities are yours to do with as you wish—

aside from an obligation to fight the Vorid

whenever you encounter them. This is a war,

after all."

"…let me get this straight. You’re going

to give me magic to fight back against

interdimensional aliens that are attacking

Earth and harvesting our souls for food?"

"More or less," Xik said.

Daniel probed his temples with his

fingertips. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

"I am entirely serious," Xik said. "The power you will obtain is enormous. The

magic you know from your fantasies, your

legends, is at times exaggerated or

incorrectly portrayed, but its might is

formidable. You can become a force for

good, or for whatever cause suits your fancy

—right this very instant. We aren’t

concerned with Earth’s politics and have no

desire to interfere in your society. The only

stipulation we have is that you fight the

Vorid. You will become a warrior for your

people." Xik extended his gloved hand. "Mr.

Fitzgerald. Will you accept this burden? Will

you make the contract and fight for those who

cannot fight for themselves?"

"No."

Xik blinked. "…what?"

"Nope. No thanks. Nein."

"But…humanity is under duress as we

speak. Millions are dead already! And the

magic," Xik added, "once it grows, you’ll be very powerful. You’ll be able to achieve

anything you want."

"Already got plans. I’m going to college,

and then to law school. I don’t want to be a

superhero." Daniel brushed his hair back

around his ears. "Haven’t you read a book

lately? Adventure isn’t all it’s cracked up to

be."

"That’s not the point."

"Even if someone else takes over the

world, he’ll still need a justice department."

"But your friends, your family! They

could be next! The Vorid -"

"Are someone else’s problem." Daniel

folded his arms. "I could get killed in a car

crash tomorrow. A meteorite could destroy

my house. I could get mugged and beaten to

death. Or, I guess could get eaten by Vorid.

Life’s fragile like that."

Xik paused. "And that’s it?"

"That’s it."

Xik took a breath and started again.

"You just really don’t care? You have an

incredible chance to end needless suffering

and become something amazing!"

"I don’t need magic for that." Daniel

sighed. "Sorry, but you knocked on the wrong

door. You can take my winning lottery ticket

to someone else. Promise I don’t mind."

Xik screwed his face up. "How you can

be so disgustingly apathetic is extremely

bothersome."

"Welcome to Earth. Hope you enjoy

your stay." Daniel tilted his head. "Or do you actually think I believe you?"

"You don’t believe me?"

"A mysterious alien shows up in the

middle of the night and offers me a magical

contract—and I’m supposed to just take your

hand and leap off the cliff inside of two

minutes?" Daniel raised an eyebrow.

"There’s a lot I don’t know. You’ve been

pretty vague. I don’t like the word vague

when it’s adjacent to the word
obligation
.

This could be a demonic ritual for all I

know. What aren’t you telling me, Xik?"

Xik let his arm fall to his side. He

narrowed his eyes. "…you’re very cold for a

human, aren’t you?"

"I don’t like handouts. They tend to

come with leashes."

They stared at each other for a long

moment.

Xik huffed, then put his hands on his

hips. "This approach has worked for every

other human I’ve encountered. Everyone

jumped at the chance."

"I’m not everyone."

"A fine point. Perhaps, if you saw it