The Fifth Correction

by Robert Wingfield

  “He seemed friendly enough,” said Vac, when Tanda had returned to her seat and wound the window back up.

  “You didn’t have to spend 15 minutes in a narrow tube looking at his backside,” said Tanda. “Are they all that big on this planet?”

  “Don’t ask me,” said Vac. “You’ve got a form to fill in.” He handed over the paperwork. Tanda unrolled it, and the concertina disappeared down by her feet.

  “This is going to take some time; look at all these questions.”

  “Better start now, while I look for somewhere to land,” said Vac unsympathetically.

  * * *

  The Pig-Ugly touched down gently on its parachute and Vac set the motor rewinding it into the handy roof-box. They got out stiffly on to the landing pad and were met by a number of large uniformed customs men.

  “Good afternoon, and welcome to the DSO,” said the Leader. They knew he was the leader; he was wearing a peaked cap and had a necktie on, whereas all the other men surrounding them were in baggy jeans and straining T-shirts, ironically with the names of sports equipment suppliers on them. “Can I see your entry paperwork please?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s only half filled in,” said Tanda, trying to stop the sheaf blowing away in the breeze. “I got stuck on the bit where it asked me for my family tree back 400 years.”

  “Yes, that stumps a lot of people,” said the leader. “We don’t like to make it too easy for folks to get in, otherwise we’d be overrun. Anyway,” he continued, eyeing the Skagan’s statuesque form, “it looks to me that you would be welcome here. We don’t get many of your type…”

  “My type?”

  “Yes, fit gorgeous people. I presume you are looking for a job advertising cars, sofas or white-goods or…” He suddenly noticed the Pig-Ugly and stepped back in horror. They could see he was desperately controlling his stomach. He turned his back. “If I’d have known your vessel had taken so much damage,” he said, “I’d have dispensed with the Customs inspection and sent you straight to Hospital PLC.”

  “No problem,” said Tanda. “What do I do with this form?”

  “Go along to the last question,” he said with his back to her. “Didn’t you read through before starting it?”

  “I didn’t think,” said Tanda. She rummaged through until she found the very last page. “‘Question 20546,” she read, “Are you a terrorist, or have you ever belonged to a terrorist organisation, or do you support any bearded political leaders, so help you, Phoist. If the answer to this question is ‘no’, you may omit questions 2 to 20455.’ How do I answer that?”

  “Tell the truth?” suggested the Leader.

  “No,” she wrote.

  Vac tutted under his breath.

  “Now sign it,” said the leader, desperately trying to hang on to his breakfast feast.

  “I certify that everything in this document is the truth as best I can make it up,” she read, and signed ‘Jill Gray’.

  “Thank you Miss Gray,” said the Leader taking the form from her. “You may go. Enjoy your holiday.” He marched his fellows away from the car, one or two of them stopping occasionally to retch into the grass at the side of the path.

  “Jill Gray?” said Vac as they collected their suitcases from the boot, which had mysteriously become a ‘trunk’ after they landed.

  “Yes.” Tanda grinned. “I used a name I heard on a music track called ‘Child of Fire’.”

  “As if I knew what that was,” said Vac.

  “And neither will they,” said Tanda. “Now, let’s see about finding that Tax Office.”

  * * *

  The lift had turned up and taken them back down to the ground floor. Tom and Kara strolled for the exit to the building, Tom holding the file on the Imperator under his arm. “Ah.” He said, stopping suddenly. Kara walked into him. The file fell to the floor, split in a cloud of dust, and papers scattered across the corridor.

  “What?” she said, bending to help him collect the jumble back together.

  “Security at the gate; lots of them.” A bell began to ring. “Sounds like they’ve raised the alarm.”

  “Why, was it originally on the floor?”

  “We did that one three universes ago,” said Tom tiredly. “What about ‘thinking’ for a change, and see if you can work out how to get us out of here?”

  “Easy,” said his companion. “They’ve put an emergency exit button on the wall for us.”

  “It says ‘Fire Alarm’.”

  “Of course, what else. Once I press this, all the exits unlock. We can nip out the back way.”

  “Go on then,” said Tom, as Kara retrieved the papers.

  “Right, I will.”

  “Be quick, the security men are heading this way. They have guns and copies of their process manuals.”

  “That should slow them down then.” Kara bashed the glass covering the switch with the palm of her hand. It resisted. “This is tough,” she muttered. “I’ll try my elbow. Ouch ouch ouch.” She hopped around the corridor, cradling her arm.

  “What’s the matter; hurry up will you?”

  “My arm; a tingling and my hand’s gone numb,” Kara moaned.

  “Have you never hit your funny-bone before?” Tom grinned. “Actually, you shouldn’t have an ulnar nerve to catch between the humerus bone and the ulna. I thought you were a machine, and perfect; you keep telling me.”

  “Too perfect I think,” said the gynoid. “I must program that response out of my ‘prosityser’.”

  “Be that as it may, please break the glass. Do you want me to have a go?”

  “I can do it,” said Kara stubbornly. “You are only an organic. What chance do you have?”

  “Hurry then,” said Tom, taking a quick peek around the corner, “those guys are nearly on us.”

  “Break, you bastard,” said Kara, hitting the glass with the sole of her stiletto. “Suppose there was a fire; we’d all burn to death before we could trigger the alarm.”

  “Trigger,” said Tom. “That might do it. Stand back.” He took aim with his pistol, and fired. There was crack as the bullet ricocheted from the toughened glass, whistled over his head and felled the first of the security men to round the corner. The others drew back with cries of:

  “He’s got a gun.” “Keep back.” “Call the military.” “What does it say in the manual about this?” “Can’t we let them go?” and “Is it lunchtime yet?”

  Tom inspected the glass on the switch. “I think it’s cracked. Pass your bag; I’ll see if I can get something to wedge it open.”

  “Get on with it then.” Kara drew her own pistol and sent a few more shots around the corner to keep the men at bay. Tom rummaged for his toolkit, buried in one of the recesses of Kara’s handbag and withdrew her largest screwdriver.

  “I’ll try this.”

  “Can’t you find the sonic one? They open everything. Shit, I’m out of ammo in this clip. Can you pass me another?”

  “Get it yourself,” said Tom throwing her the bag. He wielded his screwdriver, handle first, into the face of another member of security who had taken advantage of the lull and dashed at them. “See, you can’t do that with a sonic screwdriver.”

  “I suppose not,” said Kara, reloading and throwing the bag back to him. She sent another shot around the corner to discourage further attempts to take them. “Now hurry up.”

  Tom wedged his tool into the crack in the glass and leaned on the handle. Still the cover refused to budge. “Damn this for a game of security.” He grabbed a large hammer and gave the end of the screwdriver a tidy thump. It forced through the gap and touched the emergency button. At once the corridor echoed with the caution, completely drowning out the normal alarm.

  “Warning, warning. Fire has been detected in Corridor C1A. The alarm has been operated with a screwdriver. Take note, this is not a drill; evacuate the building now. The sprinkler system will operate shortly. Raincoats and umbrellas can be found in
the emergency lockers. Please do not use the lifts.”

  “Bravo,” said Kara, releasing a last volley towards their cowering pursuers. “Now, let’s find a locker and follow signs for the exits.”

  The emergency lockers yielded stylish see-through plastic coats and hats, and Tom and Kara joined the stream of people leaving via the emergency exit. The fire suppression systems gushed into operation as the roof opened to let the rain in.

  “What happens on a sunny day if they have a fire?” muttered Tom as they reached the street.

  “I don’t believe it ever stops raining here,” answered Kara, “so the chance of that, compared with the risk of fire makes it not cost effective to install a real sprinkler system. It’s been assessed by the ‘Constrictions Risk’ module.”

  “I must remember to make sure we never get one of those,” said Tom. “Nor will I ask if we are high and dry, having thrown off pursuit.”

  “We should be,” said Kara, scanning the street. “I don’t see how they could track us now.”

  “So that squad of guys with guns over there aren’t looking for us then?” A bullet thudded into the wall beside them.

  “Run,” said Kara. “That way leads to the Outside.”

  * * *

  The rain hammered on their plastic coats out in the jungle. Tom and Kara continued running, even though there was now no sign of pursuit. Kara kept up a steady pace of exactly 6.2 miles per time-slice, which she thought that Tom would be able to match, but he was starting to fall behind. She gave a sigh and stopped to let him catch up. He stumbled and fell. She ran back with her pistol drawn. “I hope you haven’t caused yourself serious harm,” she muttered. “I don’t want to leave you to the authorities. If you’re injured, I’ll have to kill you to save you falling into enemy hands; one of us has to escape. Oh dear.”

  The sight that met her eyes was not pleasant. Tom was writhing on the ground, covered in blood and items of viscera. His coat had split and the rain soaked in, washing the gore around. “Ah, you’ve hurt yourself,” she said hopefully. “Sorry about that, but Caryl did warn you not to leave the safety of SCT. I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you; I’d best be off then; ‘bye.”

  Tom was clawing at the tangle covering him. He tried to speak. She bent nearer to listen. “Ah, last words; I forgot you ‘bios’ like to have their last words. Make it a good one so I can quote you later and make your friends cry.”

  “Get this shit off me!” shouted Tom, causing discomfort to her aural receiver. “What the hell is it all?”

  “You are not hurt then?”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed,” said Tom. “What have I fallen into?” He reached out.

  Kara grabbed his arm to heave him out of the mess. The rain washed him clean. “I had a soft landing. Is it some sort of trap?” he asked.

  The gynoid looked thoughtful. “I think you may have fallen into a rabbit-midden,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Vampire rabbits. They leave the remains of their victims there. We should move on quickly, they may be lying in ambush in case the smell attracts any vultures. They love vultures. Come on; time for chat later. Can you run?”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing?” Tom grunted.

  Reality TV

  The Living Forest

  Call of the Sea

  A

  fter another long sprint, Tom leaned against a tree. “I’ve got to have a break. I can’t breathe.”

  “Are you getting soft with all that good living?” Kara grinned at him. “We’ve only done a couple of kilomillimiles.”

  “Feels like three,” gasped Tom. “It wouldn’t be so bad, but this rain is stopping me from opening my mouth far enough to breathe. Anyway, what was all that bollocks about the rabbit-midden? Vampire rabbits?”

  “Yes, rabbits,” said Kara.

  “What about them?”

  “Evil.”

  “To clarify,” said Tom, idly poking the soft bark. “You mean those adorable furry creatures with twitchy noses and a fixation for car headlights?”

  “The same.”

  “What could they do, kill us with cuteness?”

  “They’ve evolved,” said Kara. “You know that this planet is the wettest in the Galaxy?”

  “I’m beginning to wonder.”

  “So how do you think something like a rabbit that usually digs holes survives here? Everything fills up with water.”

  “They hold their breath?” suggested Tom, looking anxiously around for lagomorphs with harpoon guns.”

  “Of course not, that would be silly. No, they live in the trees.”

  “And that’s not silly? How do they get up there?”

  “You know their claws are always growing, and they usually wear them down by digging in the earth?”

  “I didn’t, but go on.”

  “So the claws get long, and then they are ideal for climbing trees.”

  “Arboreal rabbits,” muttered Tom, “what next?”

  “Their teeth grow rapidly, and they would normally wear those down by nibbling bark or those ‘healthy’ breakfast bars that are harder than diamond, but the trees are so soft here with all the rain, that their teeth keep on growing.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yes, the only thing they can get to wear them down is bone, usually from people or animals. They get the vitamins and minerals from the blood and tissues. Didn’t you wonder why there are no creatures in this forest?”

  “I thought they were all sheltering from the rain. So what you are saying is that there are carnivorous rabbits lurking in the trees, waiting to yell ‘halloo’ and drop down to rend us limb from limb? But surely they are too small to do any damage?”

  “If you get enough of them, they can strip a man in five seconds.”

  “I knew a girl like that…” Tom shook his head. “Enough of them; you mean like piranha vampire rabbits?”

  “Much the same.”

  Tom glanced nervously upwards. “We should get moving then.” He steadied himself against the tree.

  “That’s what I was saying,” said Kara.

  “What..?”

  A voice sounded right by Tom’s ear. “Would you mind taking your hand off my tit?”

  “Who said that?” He waved his gun and flattened himself against the bark.

  “Me.” The tree spoke.

  “A talking tree?” Tom shrugged. “I suppose anything is possible out in the wilds.”

  “Not really,” said Kara, raising an eyebrow by 15%. “It has been scientifically proven that trees do not have the lung capacity to force air over vocal cords, so what you are hearing must be in your imagination.”

  “Are trees telepathic here then?” queried Tom.

  “I’m not a bleedin’ tree,” said the tree haughtily. “I’m on a date.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tom regarded the plant curiously.

  “It’s a new courting show,” said the tree, “as I keep explaining to passers-by who don’t seem to be able to grasp the concept. I am disguised as a tree so that three potential suitors can identify my cell structure for compatibility. The one with the best match gets to take me on a date to a rain-forest of my choice.”

  “Sounds nice. And the tree disguise?” Tom was starting to get his breath back.

  “That’s so they don’t make the decision based on my looks.”

  “And have you been here long?”

  “Quite a long time really,” said the voice sadly. “But the Producers told me to keep still. The wait and discovery is all part of the game-show. They keep the cameras running to record everything that happens.”

  Kara produced a scanner from her bag. “I don’t detect cameras,” she said. “Have you had contact from any suitors?”

  “Nothing yet,” said the tree, “but I keep looking out. I am dying for a bio-break though.”

  “You would be,” said Tom. “Do you want help
to get out of that costume?”

  “I can’t,” said the tree. “If I get out, it ruins the whole show.”

  “Is that what you were told?”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ll be off then,” said Kara. “Good luck meeting the right partner.”

  “Thank you, and thanks for stopping by. Er you don’t want to get married do you?”

  “No thanks,” said Tom and Kara in unison. “Gotta go,” said Kara. “Come on Two-Dan.”

  “Do you really think we should leave whoever was in there alone?” asked Tom when they were out of earshot.

  “No, I checked with Millipedia. This is a humane planet. They don’t believe in punishing anyone for crime. They simply devise tricks and plans to keep wrongdoers occupied. This one is obviously to give criminals time to reflect, and to crush their spirits.”

  “A bit like ‘Big Bullshit’s Voice in their Starry Eyes’ on my original planet,” said Tom. “The contestants would prefer death, but they aren’t allowed that luxury. The chirpy popular hosts, Woodlouse and Decking, make sure they suffer to the limits of endurance.”

  “A cruel place,” said Kara. “I bet you’re glad you left.”

  “I miss it sometimes,” said Tom, “But this weather helps to make up for it. It’s just like home.” He gazed at the soaking forest around them. “Any idea where we are?”

  “I’ll check the Splat-nav.” Kara produced a small instrument from her bag.

  “Splat-nav? Is that because it’s waterproof?”

  “No, it’s designed to give you a warning when you about to die… duck.” She grabbed Tom and forced him to the ground. Another crossbow bolt thudded into the tree beside them. There was a cry of pain from said greenery.

  “It works then?” said Tom. “Who’s shooting at us?”

  “I’ve no idea,” said Kara. “You stay here and I’ll circle round behind them. That’s the nice thing about crossbow bolts…”

  “There’s a nice thing about a lethal projectile?”

  “Oh yes, if you look, they point exactly at where the archer is hiding.” She loosed two shots in the general direction indicated. There were two more cries of pain from inside the foliage.