In Favour of Fools: A Science Fiction Comedy (These Foolish Things Book 1) (9 page)

There’s not usually much in the way of panic at the EDA’s HQ; situated in sunny Miami for political and tanning reasons. But the loss of the marines raised the blood pressure of all of the senior officers directly involved; especially when the photograph was received.

A particularly pessimistic officer had arranged for a one-shot, squirt capable camera to be sent along with the squad. He didn’t tell anyone about it, he just fitted it to the helmet of a junior soldier. When they arrived at their disastrous destination, the split second before it was reduced to its molecular base was sufficient for a photo to be taken and squirted back to Earth.

Barnes spent a couple of minute studying the image on his computer, and then he ran it through some imaging software. When he was sure of his facts, he called his superior and asked for an urgent meeting.

An hour later, every senior officer in the building seemed to be crowding around the long desk in the number one meeting room.

‘Can you clarify the details again for us...Barnes?’ He was a three star general and he was normally better with names.

‘Yes, Sir,’ snapped Barnes as he rose to his feet. ‘The image sent back when the squad arrived is clearly an image of a star, from very close to its surface. Spectrum analysis confirms that the star is the intended destination; 20 Leonis Minoris. It seems clear that the coordinates for the squirt were out by some 130 million kilometres.’

‘But, how is that possible? The figures were given by the AI.’

General Fourths was determined to get to the bottom of this. If the problem couldn’t be resolved, the least he required was someone to blame.

‘That is correct, Sir. It is my opinion, and I have no evidence yet to back this up, that the coordinates were altered by persons unknown. I think if we examine the squirt generator, we’ll find evidence of that tampering.’

‘Who would do such a thing?’

‘There are certain ... civilians who are not happy with the opening up of new worlds. We have names and addresses for the main ones; it shouldn’t be too hard to round them up and Quantanimo them.’

The general smiled. ‘OK, Lieutenant. I’ll leave this in your hands. Check out the equipment and report back to me. Then we’ll have at look at these lily-livered civilians.’

Barnes saluted so hard that he expected to find a bruise on his forehead the next time he looked.

He went straight to the Squirtport, along with a small team of technicians. The generator was stripped down and virtually reduced to its component pieces before the end of the day. The foreign part was almost missed as it looked exactly like the part it had replaced. Only Barnes's insistence that every component be weighed revealed the anomaly; it was far too light. Further examination showed that, not only was it not part of the original machine, it wasn’t even of earthly origin.

Barnes held the little cube up to the light. In his hand he had proof that mankind was not the only intelligent life in the universe. But even that monumental fact paled into insignificance when he considered that they didn’t just exist; they were here.

If he didn’t get a promotion out of this, he’d be very surprised.

The female Zolty was planning her trip. She was alone on the reef now that her superior had left to enjoy a few moments of solitary self-indulgence.

She knew that the form she took would have to be human, but they were such ugly creatures.

She projected a mirror into the cool night air before her and studied her reflection. Her skin eruptors were purple and inflamed, ready to burst and eject her fragrant pus into the night. The lips of her main mouth were full and drooling, and her infrared eye was just the right shade of red, in contrast to the yellow of her three standard light orbs. She lifted the front part of her body up a little, to expose her much vaunted and admired flotation sacks and rippled her head and chest frills.

She knew that she was regarded as a true beauty, and now she would have to hide that beauty behind the facade of a bony human child.

She stared hard at the young girl in her mirror, trying to see if there was anything of herself behind that straight blonde hair and clear complexion, behind the smile and the dress.

There was nothing.

She skipped a little, just to see how it looked. Then she frowned; this was going to be no fun at all.

Choosing the name was simple; it had hardly needed any thought at all.

The song was one of the most popular exotic alien broadcasts of the last century, since it was first picked up at end of its long light speed journey across the galaxy.

She had only the slightest conception of what constituted my boy, and no idea at all what a lollypop might be, but she was going to call herself Millie.

Dart got the call from Deed during an intimate meal he was sharing with the divine Mrs. Johnson. He would have ignored it, but the call registered as ultra-urgent on his wrist-top, and Deed was not one to panic without good cause.

He smiled at Mary and switched to implant mode, where he was able to sub-vocalise without fear of being overheard by his dinner companion.

‘We have a problem.’

‘Yes?’

‘Masters has wiped us out, completely; he's taken all our reserves and all of our special contingency funds. There’s hardly enough left to pay for that meal you’re having.’

‘What about the rainy day fund?’

‘We can’t afford a brolly.’

‘But that's…How could it even happen?’

‘He knew all the codes, and he must have over-ridden the security requirements. He was always good at that sort of thing.’

‘We didn’t change the codes? When we decided to send him away, we should have changed them.’ Dart smiled at Mary.

‘It’s something Jennings would have done.’

‘If he hadn’t been blown up.’

‘Exactly. What do we do now?’

‘We find him and get our money back; simple as that.’

‘We can’t send anyone after him.’

‘Why not?’

‘We don’t have anyone left capable of doing the job. He’s not going to give it up easily.’

Dart considered this for a moment, as he topped up Mary’s glass.

‘Let Deerson do it. He’s very efficient at this sort of thing; and he won’t try to fiddle us. Is he back from OK yet?’

‘Yes a couple of days ago; he doesn’t mess about. He is expensive, though. And we can’t afford to pay him.’

‘He’ll accept payment by results, if we are generous enough. When he gets the money, he’ll take a cut and pass on the rest. How much are talking about anyway?’

‘Nearly two million credits.’

‘That much? I had no idea our funds were in such a healthy condition.’

‘We don’t brag about it.’

‘Let me know when you’ve checked with Deerson.’

‘Enjoy your meal; that steak looks delicious.’

Dart glanced around the restaurant. Was Deed watching him, or just messing with his head?

The steak was indeed delicious, as was his companion.

**********

Jim was becoming more and more frustrated. No matter how hard he looked, he could find no trace of Masters. Though he had spent years honing his computer skills, he didn’t have the professional packages that had allowed Phil to witness Masters’ departure. He knew Masters had entered the white building in Levenshulme; but that was weeks ago. It seemed that the man had disappeared.

He went through all of the social media sites again, in case something new had been uploaded. Apart from the fact that Dart appeared to have a new lady friend, there was nothing relevant.

As a last resort, he ran his traces on the financial transactions of all the key individuals. He discovered that Dart had spent a substantial amount on high end implants, and was spending nearly as much again in expensive restaurants. He also discovered that Mrs. Masters (ex) had made a payment to a Chandler Investigations. Now that might be interesting, he thought.

Masters disappears and his ex-wife hires a PI; there had to be a connection; a connection that might lead him to Masters. It was certainly worth pursuing; he had little else with even a hint of promise.

A quick search told him enough to get started.

The company was a small affair; just the two staff; Philip Chandler and Julie Chandler. Husband and wife? Son and mother? Father and daughter? Brother and sister? Barely seconds later, his questions were answered, and he had the office address and the beginnings of a plan.

When he knocked on the door, less than an hour later, there was a long pause, then a tired voice suggested that he come in.

He opened the door and found a youngish woman sitting behind a desk, an ancient, multi-coloured rubik's cube in her hands. She smiled at him¸ and her dark brown eyes brought unexpected laughter to his heart.

‘Is it possible to see Mr. Chandler?’

She ran a hand threw her dark curls and frowned.

‘My dad doesn’t work here.’ Then she laughed. ’Oh, I see. You mean Phil, don’t you? Nobody calls him Mr. Chandler.’

‘Is he about?’

‘No, he’s away for a few days. Can I help?’

‘Do you know where he is? Perhaps I could meet him there.’

‘Of course I know where he is; we’re partners after all. But it won’t be possible for you to visit him; it’s top secret work, for the government. There, I’ve already said too much.’

‘Can you ask him to call me, when he returns?’

‘Yes, just zip me you your contact details. Would you like a coffee first? We have original Chilean beans.’

‘That sounds very nice.’

Julie positively leapt to her feet and rushed to crank up the old machine. She glanced into Phil's office, at the slightly opened bathroom door.

'Excuse me, will you?' she asked as she walked quickly into Phil's office and clicked the bathroom door shut. There was a definite grunt from inside.

She breezed back to her guest.

‘The coffee will take a few minutes, but it’ll be worth it. Now Mr…?’

‘Evans; James Evans, well, it’s Jim, really.’

‘I went to school with a Jimmy Evans; Jimmy Elvis Lionel Evans, the poor boy. We called him Jelly.’

She allowed her gaze to drift from his face, down his body, to his coolly scruffy trainers.

‘Do you have a middle name? An initial to make you sound more exotic?’

‘Well, I do, but I never use it. It’s P.’

‘P for Peter?’

Jim shook his head.

‘Patrick? Paul? Philip?’

‘P for Prentis.’

‘I can see why you don’t use it. Just zap your details over and I’ll get Phil to contact you when he gets back from… You nearly had me there. Sugar?’

‘Sorry?’

‘In your coffee.’

‘No thank you, and I take it black.’

‘I prefer mine creamy, if you’re thinking of buying me one tonight.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind. You haven’t told me your name.’

‘Don’t you know it already?’

‘No, why would you say that?’

‘You don’t look like a guy who walks into a place without doing his homework.’

She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help responding in kind.

‘You might just be right, Julie.’

They laughed. Then she poured coffees for them both.

‘Delicious,’ he sighed, after taking his first sip.

‘Thank you.’

She smiled knowingly and drank some of her own coffee, then she flipped open her wrist-top.

‘I’ll zap you my personal number. You can pick me up at 8:30pm.’

‘I think I might just do that. See you later.’

When he’d gone, Julie sipped her cooling coffee as she walked into Phil’s office. When she was sitting in the old comfortable chair behind the desk, she switched on his desk computers and ran a few data queries.

She couldn’t help smiling as she worked.

Masters arrived in JD in good spirits. He had no intention of allowing his banishment from Earth to be anything but a temporary expediency, and he planned to arrive back a rich man; a very rich man. All he needed to do was sort out a couple of deals here, and then he could be off to Greenhaven to pay his supplier and pick up the product. Two hundred vials of gil-juice would fit easily into his shoulder bag, and each one would fetch one hundred thousand credits on the black market. Even with his partners taking their cut, he was going to trade his two million credits up to fifteen. Happy days.

JD was a smallish world orbiting a red giant. There was little in the way of fauna on such an old planet, and just a few stubborn shrubs hanging on in sheltered valleys. Originally the main interest in the place was due to its rich deposits of almost every conceivable metal. Then some entrepreneur noticed the pink sunsets and had a brilliant idea. Within five years a healthy resort had developed as the place for lovers to visit, along with their cash. To spread the net wider, no-limit casinos and luxury hotels were built. Along with its really quite relaxed attitude to taxation, its new business grants and the lack of any type of AI interference, JD was becoming the off-world financial powerhouse of Earth’s growing empire.

Naturally, with all of these delightful developments, there was considerable opportunity for the criminal element to join in the fun. Masters would have no trouble at all in finding a market for his valuable commodity.

Before he’d left Earth, Masters had spent some time at the booking desk, negotiating a ridiculously expensive set of double-squirts. Squirting between off-world planets was not possible. Not because they didn’t have the requisite equipment, but because the complex calculations involved required nothing less than an AI, and none of the twenty-one planets had direct access to such sophisticated technology. So, to get to Greenhaven, Masters would have to squirt to Earth, then bounce immediately on to Greenhaven, and repeat the process to return to JD. Then the process would be repeated a few days later, when everything was in place.

Deed had arranged for him to be put up in a comfortable mid-range hotel on the outskirts of S&C city; the number one resort on JD. Masters chuckled to himself at the thought of Deed’s face when he got the bill and was unable to pay.

After a night enjoying the benefits of all that the hotel could offer, he slept until late and woke up refreshed and ready for his new life as a purveyor of gil-juice. No more grubby little gangs, no more having to listen to the whines of others, no more bowing to the democratic principle. Now he was on his own.

Deed and the others would have to be dealt with, of course. They were bound to be a little miffed about him taking the money, though, technically, as the founder and leader of the gang, he felt that he had a fully justifiable claim to its resources. Before he could settle back on Earth and enjoy his just rewards, they would have to be eradicated. He wondered if Deerson would take the job; you were always sure of it being done properly with Deerson and his dangerous associate with the mole; he was worth every single credit. But there was no need for him to worry about costs in the new world he would be inhabiting.

His first meeting of the day was with PDS, an up-and-coming gangster with access to a substantial part of the money he would need. After that, he met PDW, an older guy who used to go by the name of Peter Dennis Williams when he plied his trade on Earth.

On JD, it was the practice to use initials only, perhaps as a line of demarcation from all things Earthly.

(
Glossary of initials already used: JD = Just Deserts, S&C = Strawberries & Cream, PDS= Pentecostal Deliverance Smith. N.F.)

With a couple of handshakes, the deals were done and Masters was free to take advantage of his first double squirt. Of course, he didn’t notice the extra squirt as there was no discernible gap between them. As far as it appeared to him, he left JD and arrived on Greenhaven in one smooth process.

Plastering sun factor fifty all over his exposed skin, he waited inside the heavily tinted double doors for his contact to arrive. It wasn’t long before a dusty four wheel drive pulled up and a child climbed out of the driver’s door.

When Masters left the Squirtport building, he felt a wave of hot air burst over him. He looked up, shielding his eyes, and saw the two suns high in the hazy blue sky. Already wilting under the tremendous heat, he rushed towards his transport.

‘Hi Kid,’ he gasped. ‘Let’s get inside before I melt away. I hope you’ve got good air-con.’

He pulled open the back door and threw his bags inside. Then he dragged himself through the narrow doorway. With the door closed beside him, the cooling system kicked in and he felt the sweat chilling on his forehead.

The young man turned to face him and Masters realised that he was a little older that he had first thought, but still barely old enough to drive.

‘Pleased to meet you, Sir.’ He held out a hard brown hand. ‘My name is Alan.’

Masters shook his hand and introduced himself.

‘I was expecting to meet your father.’

‘He’s indisposed at the moment. He got caught out in the suns; to be honest, he’s more embarrassed than hurt. It’s nothing a quick skin graft won’t solve. He asked me to see you in his place.’

‘You know what the deal we’ve agreed is?’

‘My father told me everything, but he’s left the final decision up to me.’

‘Has he now? I thought we had a deal.’

‘Before I agree to anything, I want you to come with me; if you don’t mind.’

‘If that’s what it’s going to take. Off you go, then.’

Alan turned to face forward, put the car in gear and pulled away from the Squirtport.

‘I don’t want to be rude, Sir, but I think it’s important that you know we are not criminals.’

‘Don’t worry about being rude, son. Better men than you have tried to offend me. Your motives are your own; I just care about the deal.’

‘With respect, Sir, our motives are important to us. We need the money to continue to grow gil-weed, without the interference of the government. They want to ration the amount of weed that is grown, to keep the price high.’

‘That’s fine by me.’

‘Growing gil-weed is our life. Your money will help us do that, in secret.’

‘I understand, son. You’re not criminals; your good people, and your motives are altruistic.’

‘Thank you, Sir, for listening to me.’

‘Didn’t have much choice as you’re driving, but you are very welcome. Now, where are you taking me?’

‘I won’t sell a drop of gil-juice to a man who doesn’t have the dirt of the land on his hands.’

‘And that means?’

‘You‘re going to dig up some gil-weed.’

‘Nice. I’m hardly dressed for it.’

‘There’s a coverall in the back; it might fit you. You’ll be getting your nice shoes dirty, though.’

An hour later he was standing under the full ferocity of the suns, wearing a coverall that didn’t fasten, with a pick axe in his hand.

‘Wouldn’t a spade be more useful?’

‘A spade won’t touch it at this time of year. You need to break through the baked surface first.’

Masters set his feet and swung the pick axe. It bounced back off the dusty ground without making a dent.

‘Your timing’s off. Watch me.’

Alan picked up his own tool and swung it effortlessly, despite his small stature. Its point thrust fifteen centimetres or so into the earth and, with a flick of his thin brown wrist, a lump of dry brown soil was lifted upwards.

Masters chuckled to himself as the little guy showed off his skills.

‘That’s how it is then.’ He grunted and swung again. This time he put all of his substantial weight behind it and the blade sank hilt deep. Then he threw himself against the handle. And a large sod of dusty soil was raised.

Alan nodded. ‘Again.’

Three heavy swings later they switched to spades, and began to dig.

‘You don’t normally do this when the suns are so high in the sky, do you?’

Alan laughed. ‘No, we usually do it first thing, before it gets so hot.’

‘I thought as much.’ Masters wiped his arm across his forehead. ‘How much deeper?’

‘Another couple of metres before we get close to the roots, but we can stop now. We don’t need to finish it now; you’ve done what I wanted and I hope you have a taste of what we do.’

‘I certainly do, young man. Now when do I get to see the product? This has been fun, but I’m a busy man.’

‘It’s in the back of the car.’

‘You’ve driven me all the way out here and you could have given it to me at the Squirtport?’

‘You had to do this first.’

Masters looked down at the young man, standing up to him; sure of his opinion and worth.

‘OK. I’ll give you that. I should tell you that I’m not always this nice. If the product is not what it’s claimed to be, I’ll be coming back for you, and your dad, and your little sister. She looks so cute in that party dress; your father must be proud.’

‘There’s no need for threats, Mister. We wouldn’t try to trick you; we wouldn’t know how. ‘

Masters nodded and dropped his pick axe. Then he walked slowly to the car.

With the cash and gil-juice swapped to the satisfaction of all parties, they drove back to the Squirtport.

‘Maybe I’ll see you again, son. If my customers are happy with your product, we could make this a regular deal,’ said Masters, standing in the cool air of the Squirtport’s doorway.

Alan took a step back and stared up at him.

‘I don’t think so, Masters. This was a once only transaction, and it won’t be repeated. We have what we want from you, and we won’t be dealing with your kind again.’

Masters laughed. ‘My kind? You’re happy to break the law and to take my money. We’re not so different.’

Alan laughed himself. ‘You’d be surprised, Masters. And thanks, by the way, for helping me to win a bet.’

‘What bet would that be?’

‘I told my father I’d get you to dig a hole in the ground, in the middle of nowhere, at the hottest time of the day, for no reason.’

He turned and walked back to his car.