Part 6 (2/2)
”Shut up!” screamed Pierce, and suddenly the interior of his s.h.i.+p was silent and the redhead and the lizard-men glared at each other. ”That's better,” continued Pierce, when he was sure no one was going to start talking again. ”Now, it seems to me that if we all just try to calmly reason this out together, we ought to be able to come up with an equitable solution.”
”Any solution that allows your race to survive military devastation is not equitable,” said the general sullenly.
”You going to let that little old alligator talk to you like that, honey?” demanded the redhead, her pistol still pointing at the most probable location of the general's vital organs.
Tr.: ”Where has my s.h.i.+p gone? I can no longer see it.”
Tr: Ah, to h.e.l.l with it. We're gonna translate right in the story from now on.
”Look,” said Pierce, ”it just seems to me that we can put our differences aside for a few moments and attack the problem like civilized people. You see, Miss . . . ah. . . ?”
”Honeylou Emmyjane Goldberg,” she said, s.h.i.+fting the pistol to her left hand and extending her right in a vigorous handshake. ”But my friends call me Marshmallow.”
”Marshmallow?” repeated Pierce.
”'Cause I'm so soft,” she said, smiling down at him. ”Gee, you sure are a cute little feller.”
”Why . . . uh . . . thank you,” mumbled Pierce, his knees turning to water.
”Honey,” she said confidentially, whispering into his ear, ”I don't want to startle you or nothing, but do you notice anything peculiar about those two guys standing over there by the navigational computer?”
”You mean the aliens?” asked Pierce.
”Aliens? Oh, good! I thought I was seeing things again.”
”Oh, no,” Pierce a.s.sured her. ”They're aliens, all right. The one who was screaming at me a moment ago is named Millard Fillmore Pierce. He's their general.”
”And what's your name, honey?”
”Millard Fillmore Pierce.”
”This is all some kind of joke, right?” she said. ”Daddy hired you and a couple of actors, and-”
”I a.s.sure you I'm in deadly earnest,” said Pierce in deadly earnest. ”These aliens are the vanguard of a galactic invasion force that plans to subjugate all life-forms in the Milky Way.”
”Well, hadn't we oughta do something about them?” asked Marshmallow, still not sure that this wasn't all some elaborate hoax.
Pierce had been thinking much the same thing, and was about to announce that he was open to all nonviolent suggestions, when a hollow metallic voice was piped in over the s.h.i.+p-to-s.h.i.+p radio.
”This is the Battle Cruiser Mahatma Gandhi calling Arbiter Transport s.h.i.+p Pete Rozelle. Do you read us?”
”This is the Pete Rozelle,” answered Pierce.
”I don't mean to intrude,” said the voice, ”but did you guys know that you're linked to an alien dreadnought of unknown origin and racing h.e.l.l-for-leather toward an unexplored section of the galaxy?”
”As a matter of fact, we are painfully aware of it,” said Pierce. ”We've been kidnapped by an alien invasion force. I don't mean to be pushy, but could you possibly rescue us.”
”Certainly,” said the voice. ”Effecting deep-s.p.a.ce rescues is our primary function. What human beings are aboard the s.h.i.+p?” ”Millard Fillmore Pierce, Cla.s.s 2 Arbiter, and Honeylou Emmyjane Goldberg, civilian,”
replied Pierce, shooting a triumphant smile at the general, who was still trying to figure out where the voice was emanating from so that he could disconnect the system.
”Pierce . . . Pierce . . .” said the voice, obviously checking the name on some computer file or another. ”d.a.m.n it all, Pierce, you're supposed to be en route to New Glasgow. What the h.e.l.l are you doing out here?”
”We've been kidnapped!” shouted Pierce in frustration.
”Please don't yell so,” said the voice. ”This is very delicate equipment we're using here.”
”Then rescue us and I'll speak to you face-to-face,” said Pierce.
”That's a lot easier said than done. We seem to have a little problem here.”
”Well, I've got a big problem here. A seven-foot-tall lizard is making threatening gestures at me.”
”Don't bother me with details, Pierce,” said the voice. ”This is important. New Glasgow is in the Komornos Sector. By rights, the Komornos fleet should rescue you.”
”But they're hundreds of light-years away!” screamed Pierce, as the general began advancing toward him.
”That's hardly my problem, is it?” said the voice. ”And your companion should be in the Pirollian Sector and-wait a minute! She's being hunted for stealing a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p.”
”I just borrowed it,” said Marshmallow sulkily.
”Be that as it may, you've presented us with an interesting ethical problem,” continued the voice. ”By rescuing your s.h.i.+p, would we not also be aiding and abetting a felony?”
”Can't you just rescue us and worry about it later?” pleaded Pierce, backing away from the general.
”And go through six months' worth of paperwork? Not a chance, Pierce! I mean, we're perfectly happy to risk our lives going around the galaxy rescuing humans in distress, but let's be reasonable about this: You're in the wrong G.o.dd.a.m.ned sector, Pierce.”
”It wasn't our choice!”
”I don't suppose you could convince your captors to try conquering the Komornos Sector, could you?” said the voice helpfully.
”I don't think that's very likely,” said Pierce, anger giving way to frustration.
”Too bad. You're not making the situation any easier, Arbiter. Personally, I'd like nothing better than to rescue you. Certainly we have the armaments to extricate you from your situation in a matter of seconds-but my orders are quite explicit. You really should be in the Komornos Sector.”
”They're going to kill us and subjugate the galaxy!” screamed Pierce.
”Well, that's very useful information, Pierce,” said the voice. ”Very helpful, indeed. I'll transmit it through proper channels and we'll get working on it right away.” The voice paused.
”Would you say that such information should go to Defense, Diplomacy, Readiness or Propaganda?”
”How the h.e.l.l should I know?” demanded Pierce. ”All I want to know is why you won't rescue us!”
”Well, I must admit that your words have moved me deeply, Pierce. I am truly touched by your plight. Possibly inspired is a better word, if you know what I mean. And to h.e.l.l with regulations! Pierce, your prayers have been answered. The Mahatma Gandhi is going to rescue you!”
”Thank G.o.d!” breathed Pierce as the alien general suddenly tensed.
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