In Favour of Fools: A Science Fiction Comedy (These Foolish Things Book 1) (12 page)

Sam was relaxing in Phil's chair; his feet were on the desk, beside a steaming mug of coffee. The electricity was off at the mains and the darkness made him feel safe; he was even considering removing his icepacks.

Then he heard a noise at the door and knew that they had finally come for him. With a grunt, he dragged his feet from the desk and moved silently towards the bathroom. Halfway to the door, he stopped and went back for his coffee.

As he pushed the bathroom door to, he heard footsteps in the outer office. He peeped through the narrow opening between the door and its frame and saw torchlight splashing off the walls of Phil's office. He didn't know what he expected; maybe an AI controlled cyborg, bristling with muscles and weapons. Or perhaps an intangible shadow, full of menace and mendacity; ready to seep into his brain and wrest control of his mind from him.

The large bulky individual who couldn't seem to enter the room without bumping into the doorframe, and who muttered words of encouragement to himself as he walked, didn't match those expectations at all.

Nevertheless, it was clear to Sam that his freedom was at risk; that any moment now the ogre would rip through the door, burst into the bathroom and carry him screaming to wherever they incarcerated rebels these days.

He took a sip of his coffee to calm his nerves and placed the mug on the windowsill.

Then he adopted a defensive stance, with his legs braced and his hands weaving before his face. He had no martial arts training, of course, but he'd seen the films. He wasn't planning to go quietly.

After a long moment in which the door managed to retain its integrity, he stepped forward and peered again through the gap.

The big guy was bending over Phil's computer.

'That goes there.' He heard the guy say; with considerable glee.

His job at the computer obviously finished, he straightened and shone his torch around the room.

'That's strange,' he said, slowly, 'I can smell coffee.'

He went into the outer office and Sam could hear him sniffing at the coffee machine. Then, miraculously, he was gone, and Sam was safe.

Thank goodness I kept my icepacks on, he thought, as he went to Phil's computer. At first, he could find nothing, even though he knew that it had to be there. In an exhibition of heroism that would forever remain a secret to the wider world, he turned the electricity back on and rushed back to Phil's desk. There it was plugged into the back of his hard-drive.

'Why are the AI's bugging Phil's computer,' he said, quietly. 'Is it to find me? It makes sense; they can't find me themselves, so maybe they think Phil knows where I am.'

He nodded and smiled to himself as he removed the bug and flushed it down the toilet.

He had no idea how much frustration his actions would cause for Dart when he tried to access the upload from the bug.

**********

The journey was painful and extended, as Brian had taken a sudden aversion to the road. He wanted to stay on the grass, or to eat the grass, or maybe take a doze on the grass; anything but walk calmly along the nice flat smooth road. I tugged and prodded; I shouted and cajoled; all to no effect. In the end, I used my box to climb off his back and we walked along beside the road together, with him stopping every few strides for a slow munch of grass.

Strange put up with it for as long as he could, but he wasn’t known for his patience.

‘You know the way back, don’t you?’ He wasn’t looking at me as he spoke; he was staring into the distance.

‘Of course; there’s only one straight road.’

Without another word, he nudged his horse with his knees and he was off. The display of speed was entirely for my benefit, I felt.

I leant forward and patted Brian on his head. ‘Good boy!’ I said, suddenly in better spirits as the weight of Strange’s presence was lifted from my shoulders.

I began to walk along the road, wishing that I could whistle; it felt like a whistling moment. Occasionally I called a word or two of encouragement to Brian. Sometimes he even paid attention to me, and once, he actually broke into a trot to catch up with me; but mostly he didn’t.

By the time we reached the little town next to the Squirtport, I was tired, sore, and ready for a drink. Spittoon was leaning against a wooden fence at the side of the stable with his trusty horseshoe in his hand. He smiled his gap-toothed smile when he saw me and pushed himself upright.

‘Reckoned you’d get lost,’ he croaked.

‘How could I get lost? There’s only one road.’ Do I really appear that incapable to people who hardly know me?

He turned and spat a short stream of tobacco over the fence. I walked up and joined him, and glanced over at the fenced-in area. It contained what I took to be an unusually large pig; at least compared to the pot-bellied pig I’d been forced into intimacy with. I don’t have much experience of pigs generally; not outside of a bacon butty. It was blushing pink, with a filthy snout and three muddy trotters. Only the three, because one leg was made of wood. It also was the proud bearer of a gold medal on a red ribbon around its neck.

I had to ask.

‘Why is he wearing a gold medal?’

‘He’s a hero, he is.’

We stared at the hero some more.

‘What act of heroism did he perform?’ it seemed the obvious question.

Spittoon coughed and stood upright, as if this story was going to require some telling.

‘There was a bad flood last year. Part of the hotel was washed away. We had a family staying. Ma and Pa, and two little ‘uns. They was washed away; would have drowned for cert. But the pig was also in the water. I had no idea he could even swim. But he could; looked like one of them hippo things as he ploughed his way through.’

He paused then to admire the pig a little more.

‘What happened then?’ I prompted.

‘He swam close to where they were hanging on for their lives, clutching at the skinny branches of a small tree. He let them cling to him as he swam back to dry land. It was something to see; I tell you.’

I stared at the heroic pig, and nodded. It surely deserved the medal.

‘Is that how he lost his leg? In the flood?’

‘No. He climbed out of the water, fit as a fiddle and as clean as I’ve ever seen him.’

I nodded. Could I really leave this heroic pig to his snuffling without asking the question?

‘How did he lose his leg?’

Spittoon looked at me for a minute, as if I’d said something ridiculous. I checked what I’d said in my head; it made perfect sense to me; all the words were in the right order.

‘What d’you mean?’ he said, eventually.

‘He’s only got the three,’ I said, ever so slowly.

He leaned forward and studied the beast; I'd swear he was counting its legs.

‘Oh, I see what you mean.'

He looked at the pig, and I looked at him. Why was it always so hard to get anything out of him?

'And...?'

In response, he spat a brown stream of tobacco juice over the wall, narrowly missing the subject of our conversation.

'The way I see it...' He paused and began to scratch himself in rather an intimate area.

'The way you see it, ' I prompted.

'No, the way I see it is, well, you know, when you've got a pig like that, you don’t eat it all at once.’

I turned to stare at him. He ignored me and squirted another stream of brown juice over the fence.

‘Mr. Strange said you’d settle the bill, for the rides and the room.’ He said, out of the blue.

‘But, we didn’t use the room.’

‘Still have to pay. I turned people away, you know. Could have booked them in, if I’d known.’

This hardly seemed likely. Still, I paid the bill and waited patiently for him to get the receipt.

I reached over to pat Brian’s nose, but he raised his lips and displayed his impressive teeth in a way that I didn’t feel was very friendly, considering all we’d been through together.

Receipt in hand, I nodded to Spittoon and began to walk toward the Squirtport. After a few paces, I stopped. I couldn’t just walk into the place and squirt back to Earth, just like that. I need to build up to it.

I turned back to Spittoon.

‘Is there a quiet bar nearby, where I can get a quiet drink?’ I was using the word ‘quiet’ as short-hand for ‘without half-naked women’, but I think he got my point.

‘No,’ was his somewhat unhelpful reply.

I thought about the topless bar, and I thought about the Squirtport; about sober squirting.

In the end the bar wasn’t all that bad. I was able to sit in a corner and pay people to go to the bar for me. After four or five pints, I was even able to walk right up to the bar myself and make my requirement of another beer known. I may have spent a somewhat excessive amount of time staring at the naked breasts on display. Very soon after that point, I believe I was encouraged to leave the bar; there was certainly the print of a helpful boot in the middle of my backside.

The journey home was a bit hazy for me. I woke up in my office, draped over my desk, with Brian’s smelly horse blanket over my shoulders. I’m not sure how that came about.

I was hung over, aching and smelt of mule, but I was happy to be home.

The bathroom door was open. Had Sam made his escape? Or had they finally come for him?

I threw the horse blanket to the ground and stretched; time for a nice coffee, I was thinking, when Julie walzed in.

‘You look like rubbish, Philly,’ she said, as she reached for the air freshener. ‘And you smell worse than you look.’

‘Coffee?’ I offered, as a wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over me, as if my particles had suddenly realized that they'd been tricked and were none too happy about it.

Julie nodded her assent to my generous offer and walked into my office. I swear I could sell her chair and desk and she’d never notice.

‘Tell me about it what happened over there.’ She was slurping coffee, stretched out on my couch.

I went through the highlights of my trip and she told me about the visit from Jim Evans.

‘When do you leave again?’ she asked as I walked back into the room with refills.

‘I don’t want to talk about that, just yet.’

Just then there was a knock on the outer office door. Did I tell you no-one ever knocks on my door? There’s certainly been a lot of it lately.

I glanced over to Julie, my secretary, but there was no sign that she intended to answer the door, so I grunted and went myself.

‘One of these days we should work out a proper job description for your role as couch warmer,’ was my parting shot.’

‘When you pay me,’ she replied.

There was a tall slim man waiting at the door when I opened it.

‘Good morning,’ he said, smiling in a friendly sort of way.

‘Oh, good morning,’ I replied; a stickler for tradition.

‘Mr. Chandler?’

I nodded. At some stage I was going to have to let him in, even if I really didn’t want to. I had never seen him in the flesh before, but he takes a good picture and I had no difficulty in recognising my visitor.

It was Dart, and that smile wasn’t really that friendly.

There was a larger than usual crowd outside the Whitehouse on that fine Sunday morning. They were in good spirits, with their wide variety of recording equipment primed and ready to go. There was even a small group of professional journalists who’d managed to drag themselves out of their beds for this auspicious occasion.

A visit from a being from another planet; the stuff of so many B movies for more than a century. Now it was just about to happen.

The Secretary of State was already out on the lawn, smiling and glad-handing the dignitaries who had felt that their august presences were required. He stopped to share a joke with a tall, dashing actor, famous for his portrayal of James T Kirk in the latest of the forty-five films in the franchise.

He paused in his crowd-working for a moment to check his watch, then he glanced up at the clear blue sky. It was almost time. The delegation was due at 10 a.m. Jerry wouldn’t leave his office until they were actually here; it wouldn’t do for the new President of EOEEUG to be seen hanging around, waiting like a flunky.

Millie walked through the crowd, unnoticed by the adults all around her. When she reached the closed entrance gate, she walked up to the nearest soldier and tugged at his uniform jacket.

‘Excuse me, Mister,’ she said, smiling up at him.

The soldier looked down and returned her smile. ‘What can I do for you, young lady?’

He bent a little as he spoke and she could smell his breakfast on his breath.

‘What’s everyone doing here? And why do they keep looking at the sky?’

‘Don’t you know? We’re waiting for a visit from aliens; from a delegation from the Galactic Empire. They’re coming to meet with our President.’ He straightened and his eyes scanned the crowd.

‘Oh, I see.’ Millie tugged his jacket again. ‘You’d better tell him I’m here then.’

‘What? I don’t think I caught what you said.’

‘Yes you did. You know you look silly in that outfit, don’t you?’

She reached for and took his hand. ‘Take me to your leader,’ she said, in a deep gruff voice.

Later, the soldier was never able to explain fully what happened next. One moment, he was outside the gate, talking to a little girl. The next, he was being led along the road inside the locked and guarded gate, towards the VIP’s on the lawn.

They were soon surrounded by lean men in dark suits and sunglasses, with weapons drawn and attitude turned up to eleven. Despite their many years of training and consummate skills, they still managed to let the little girl slip through their ranks as they threw the hapless soldier to the ground.

Millie had done her homework, so she recognised the Secretary of State and skipped up to him.

‘Hi Mike,’ she laughed. ‘I’m here. Where’s the President? Is he hiding?’

Mike turned towards her; he’d seen LOL’s report and he knew exactly what he was dealing with here.

‘Hello Millie; may I call you Millie?’

‘I don’t know what else you’d call me, Mister, unless you want you call me Your Esteemed Representative of the Lower Milky Way Confederation of Like-minded and Advanced Peoples. How does that sound?’

‘Like a mouthful, I think. Millie it is then. You can call me…’

‘Mike. I know. So, where is he? Is he playing hide and go seek? Shall I go and seek him out now?’

‘That won’t be at all necessary. The President of the Earth and Off-Earth Empire Unified government does not hide. He is merely waiting for confirmation of your arrival.’

‘Well, go on then. Tell him I’m here. Did you mean to comb your hair that way? Or don’t you have mirrors in your house?’

Mike resisted the urge to pat down his comb-over and excused himself.

Minutes later, Jerry Tension was smiling and bending, reaching out his hand to shake the hand of the child before him. He hoped that the multitudes of cameras trained on them were getting the money shot.

‘Welcome to our planet, Millie. We are immensely gratified that you have chosen our small world as a candidate for membership of your much esteemed empire.’

‘Junior.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Junior membership of the Confederation is all I’m offering.’

‘I’m sure that can be resolved in the full and open discussions we are about to embark on.’

‘If you say so, Jerry.’

Jerry’s smile widened. ‘Yes, first name terms already. Marvelous. Would you just take a moment to wave to the people, and smile that cute little smile, to show everyone how well things are going?’

Mille spun and faced the crowd at the gate. She waved both hands as high as she could, and jumped up and down; her smile wide and open.

After the cheers had died down, she took Jerry’s hand and they walked together into the White House, with Mike and the security teams following closely behind.

The meeting room was already filled with important looking men and women when they entered. Millie was pleased that everyone stood up to welcome her. She took a seat at the nearest end of the table and Jerry marched to the opposite end.

When everyone was seated, she waved at Jerry across the length of the table.

‘We can’t talk like this,‘ she said. ‘You’re too far away. I’ll come over to you.’ Suiting her actions to her words, she climbed onto the rich mahogany table and scooted along its full length until she was directly in front of Jerry. She crossed her legs and covered them demurely with her skirt.

‘This is better.’ She smiled, and everyone around the table joined her.

‘Shall I start? Or do you want to say something pompous first?’ She giggled.

‘I’m happy for you to start the proceedings. I’ll save the pompous stuff for later.’

‘You have implants, I see. Can I just drop the data into your head?’

The head of the security team stepped forward.

‘I’m afraid that will not be possible, The President’s brain is firewalled to prevent anything from getting in there. If you could load the data onto a data cube; that would be for the best.’

‘Can I just tell him? Or would that breach your security requirements.’

He nodded. ‘Talk is just fine.’

‘OK. Here is my card; it has my personal contact details. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.’

The security team leader took the card, examined it, and passed it on to Mike. He studied it for a moment, then he handed it to Jerry.

‘We can get you on these numbers? They look like terrestrial numbers.’

‘Of course, I’m based here now. Now, first things first, here’s a data chip with all of the contract requirements. If you could get your people to go through it as quickly as possible, then perhaps we could get it signed today, and the funds will be released within a very short period of time.’

Jerry waved to the security team leader who took the chip and left the room.

‘Perhaps you could give us a high level view of this contract, to give us an idea of what we can expect.’

‘As a level five civilisation, you qualify for a grant to enable you to bring yourselves up to level six, which will in itself bring you further benefits. Level six is the minimum level for Associate membership of the Federation.’

‘And what sort of figures are we talking about when we discuss this grant?’

‘What was your Global GDP last year? Eighteen hundred billion credits? Put another zero at the end of that figure and you’ll get the size of the grant, to enable you to purchase the level six technologies that you will be allowed access to.’

There was some murmuring around the table, but Mike’s frown put a stop to that.

‘For myself, in my role of LCN, I am entitled to a finder’s fee, payable in two parts. It’s all in the contract chip. I take a small payment from you now, and then a percentage of the final grant figure.’

‘We have to pay you?’

‘I’ve come a long way and I don’t work for nothing. You’ll see that my remuneration is perfectly reasonable.’

‘It just doesn’t seem right that we have to pay to join your Federation. Surely it is driven by humanitarian ideals?’

‘You’re not paying to join the Federation. You’re paying for me to facilitate the process. Without me acting as your LCN, you can’t join. It’s as simple as that.’

‘What if we decline your offer and contact the Federation ourselves.’

‘Good luck with that, Jerry. You don’t know where they are, and they don’t know you exist. Without me, it could be thousands of years before contact is made. And you wouldn’t get the glory, Jerry. None of you would. And I guess that wouldn’t make you happy.’

‘What is a LCN?’ asked Mike, leaning forward.

‘Lower Civilisation Nurturer, Mike. Trust me boys; there’s enough to go around, for everyone. Just sign the contract and pay my first instalment, then we can go forward with this. What do you say?’

‘What do we pay you with? Credits? Or blood?’

‘Mike! There’s no need to be like that. Can I zap my requirements to your wrist-top? There you go.’

As Mike studied his wrist-top, Millie spun around on her bottom, pushing with her feet and hands.

‘But these are priceless works of art. We can’t just hand them over to you. Some are in private hands; they are not ours to give.’

Millie chuckled. ‘Mikey, you know you could find a way to get me what I want, if you really wanted to.’

‘Millie, can we forget about the payments for a moment, and discuss what benefits we will receive as members of the Federation?’ interrupted Jerry.

‘Junior.’

‘What?’

‘Junior members of the Federation, for now. At level 6, you become Associate members, but, no matter how much you paid, I couldn’t get you full membership, and even Associate membership will require the considered and appropriate use of your grant. And no; I’m not going to forget about the payments. That’s why I’m…’

She paused, tilting her head as if she was listening.

‘OK,' she began, a frown creasing her brow. 'This is what I need you to do. I’m going to leave now; something’s come up I have to deal with. I’ll be back tomorrow. By then you should have the pieces I’ve asked for and the contract signed. After the statutory cooling off period of seven days, the monies will be released into an account of your choosing, minus my cut. Then we can move onto the next stage, where you can spend the money, but I’ll talk you through that when the time is right. How does that sound, Jerry?’

Jerry puffed up his cheeks and slowly released the air.

‘I suppose…’

‘Tell me later; I’ve got to go.’ Millie lifted one hand in a half wave; then she was gone.

There was stunned silence for a moment, but it was never going to last; not with so many important people in the room.

‘What do you think, Mike? Is she for real?’ Jerry felt, as President, he should be first to speak.

‘I don’t know, Sir. I really don’t know. Look at this list she’s sent me; it’s worth a hundred million plus. Do we even have the power to gather them together and hand them to her? And what if she’s lying to us? How would we even know, until the money didn’t arrive and we didn’t hear from these aliens?’

‘But Mike, just think about it; level six technologies. Wow, what will we be able to do in only a few years? We can’t say no to that, can we?’

Mike shrugged at his boss. Too much bloody SF!