Part 7 (1/2)
”We'll just send a Wavier of Jurisdiction form to Komornos and a copy to Galactic Central, and as soon as both are signed and returned, we'll have you out of there in no time.”
”How long will this actually take?” asked Pierce warily.
”Six weeks, Standard Time. Two months at the outside. Cheer up, Pierce-help is on the way!” The connection was broken.
”Great!” spat Marshmallow.
”Sounds familiar,” commented the alien Pierce, not without a note of sympathy.
”They'll be back in six weeks,” said Pierce with more confidence than he felt. ”I see no reason for continuing this hostility. After all, we have so much in common. We speak English, we have the same name, we come fromsimilar backgrounds, I'm a human being and your people are basically humanoid . . .”
”Hold it right there, fella,” said the general. ”The way I see it, we're the humans and you guys are the humanoids. Now try not to bother me while I figure out what to do with you and that creature with the extra pair of lungs.”
”Are you insulting me, you ugly little polywog?” demanded Marshmallow. ”Because if you are, I'll see to it that Daddy takes a horsewhip to you!”
”Will you indeed?” responded the general, suddenly interested.
”You bet your ugly little red scales he will! He's probably got half the fleet out looking for me!”
”Your father's a big shot in this galaxy?” asked the general.
”The biggest!” she stated smugly.
”Excellent!” proclaimed the general. ”Then we don't have to seek out your armadas at all. All we have to do is sit on you-figuratively, of course,” he added with some distaste, ”and they'll come to us.” He smiled. ”A most fortuitous meeting indeed.”
”May I point out that we're not sitting on anything at present,” interposed Pierce mildly, ”but are traveling to G.o.d knows what computer nuptial bed at more than two hundred times the speed of light?”
”My s.h.i.+p!” said Marshmallow suddenly. ”What happened to my s.h.i.+p?”
”It's quite a few light-years behind us,” said the general. ”My more immediate concern is what is to become of my s.h.i.+p?”
”What do you mean?” asked Pierce. ”We're attached to it.”
”True, but it's not wise to transfer s.h.i.+ps in hyper-s.p.a.ce or at light speeds,” replied the alien Pierce. ”I could be stuck in this minuscule vessel for weeks, or even months. Order will break down. In fact, if I'm not back aboard my own dreadnought in the next couple of hours I could be considered A. W. O. L.”
”I'm sure they'll understand,” said Pierce.
”It's not their business to understand,” said the general harshly. ”It's their business to court- martial me. After all, we carry a full legal staff and three judges aboard s.h.i.+p. It would be unethical of me not to stand trial.”
”But what if they found you guilty?” asked Pierce.
”It's almost certain that they will. Rule 3004, you know. But as general, I have a right to review all cases involving military personal, and in extreme cases I can commute sentences.”
”Well, that takes care of that,” said Pierce.
”Oh, it's not as easy as you'd believe,” continued the general. ”For one thing, I can't review the case without triplicate copies of a written transcript.”
”And you don't carry any stenographers in a combat s.h.i.+p, eh?”
”On the contrary, we carry a full complement of twelve stenographers . . . but it would take weeks, possibly even months, to determine which one had seniority.” ”And he'd type it?”
”Hardly,” scoffed the general. ”But he'd offer a list of recommendations, which would then have to go to Personnel. They'd narrow the list down to three, I'd have to choose one, and then it would go back to Non-Commissioned Officers' Local 397 for counterapproval.”
”I see,” said Pierce, who was experiencing a strong sense of deja vu.
”Then, of course,” continued the general, ”every-thing would depend on what time of day- s.h.i.+p's time-the trial was held. After all, a general's trial requires a certain amount of pomp and circ.u.mstance.”
”What does one have to do with the other?” asked Pierce.
”Well, you don't suppose that I'm in command of our attack force twenty-four hours a day, do you?”
”You're not?” asked Pierce, surprised.
”Of course not!” replied the general contemptuously. ”We're in s.p.a.ce now, where there is no night or day. We're on duty around the cosmic clock.”
”I don't understand.”
”You don't really think I could stride manfully* at the helm, giving orders all day and all night, day in and day out, do you? Of course you don't! How would I ever eat, or find it possible to answer calls of nature? In point of fact, I'm only the general from noon to 8:00 P.m., s.h.i.+p's time.”
*Actually, the word was lizardfully, but let it pa.s.s.
”You have three commanding generals?” said Pierce incredulously.
”We not only have three generals, but three staffs and three attack forces. Anything else would just cause confusion.”
”I see,” said Pierce, who didn't really.
”However, this is all academic,” continued the alien. ”Actually, I don't have a thing to worry about for another four hours.”
”What happens then?”
”I go off duty,” responded the general. ”But until then, no member of my crew can board your s.h.i.+p without written permission from me-and of course, stuck here with you distasteful humanoids as I am, I can't very well give them written permission, can I?”
”It all works out very neatly then, doesn't it?” said Pierce with a wry smile.
”Most bureaucratic structures do, once you get the hang of them,” replied the general smugly.
”And of course the odds are one in three that I'll be in command when this creature's father makes a futile attempt to rescue her.”
”We'll see just how futile he is when he gets here, Plug Ugly,” said Marshmallow nastily.
”We shall demolish him,” said the general with absolute certainty, ”and then I will rule supreme in this sector of the galaxy.”
”I wouldn't count on that,” said a low voice.
All eyes turned to the speaker. It was the other alien, and he had drawn his sword.
”What in the name of pluperfect h.e.l.l is going on here?” demanded the general.
”It's your d.a.m.ned fault that we're in the wrong galaxy in the first place,” replied the other alien, brandis.h.i.+ng his sword in his right hand. ”I see no reason why you should take all the credit when we destroy the armada of this creature's father. When that happy moment occurs, I shall be in command.”