“Oh yeah right,” he realized, “had to let ‘em go you know, diversionary tactics and that.”
Pete did not know, but nodded.
“Here,” said Pierre passing Slip his beret.
“Oh thanks,” he replied, placing the beret on his head, “pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh we are huge fans,” said Pierre, “aren’t we boys?”
“We adore your work!” said the resistance in unison.
“Yeah, I am pretty great!” he agreed, putting his hands on his hips.
“Look people,” put in Crinkle, “I hate to be the bearer of reality as usual, but shouldn’t we be thinking about making a move around about now, you know in case they somehow realize that even the combined force of both bread and cheese, may not in fact stand up too successfully to an onslaught of laser fire.”
“Absolutely babe, as always, right on the money,” agreed Slip.
“Okay what’s the plan?” Slip asked Pete.
“Okay what’s the plan?” Pete asked Pierre.
“I dunno,” said Pierre, his mouth full of brie.
“Okay,” said Fendel, “how’s this for a start?”
And that said, Fendel activated the parrot of uncertainty.
14.
The parrot of uncertainty is an interesting device in so far as it has no apparent purpose or meaning. Earth lexiconists may be further bewildered by the fact that a parrot of uncertainty has very little, well in fact, absolutely no passing resemblance to our fine feathered friend, the “who’s a pretty boy”, earth parrot. Instead a parrot of uncertainty looks like a small egg-shaped device containing one button and a small LED screen. Now this may lead one to think that such a device must then be a doddle to operate, and one would be right, the problem then becomes, what is meant to happen when said button is pushed, and this is where the uncertainty bit comes in. The first mention of the parrots of uncertainty comes from “The Big Bumper Book of the Universe – its beginning, end, and what do to in the meantime”. It is written there, that once the major galaxies of the universe had formed, and the first sentient life forms began travelling between the stars and colonizing new planets, it slightly distressed them to find these small egg-shaped devices were quite suddenly everywhere they went. No one could remember inventing them, no one could quite recall having ever purchased one, and no one had literally any idea as to their purpose or meaning. This withstanding, it became quite the norm that when rooting for some change in one’s pocket, more often than not, one would discover a parrot of uncertainty. Now, it would then most likely follow that due to an overabundance of these button-totting eggs, the numerous number of button-pushing-fingers in the universe, and life’s relentless desire to see little buttons pushed, at literally any cost, the purpose of the parrot of uncertainty would have been all too apparent. This however is far from the case. The book’s final reference to them is that “under any circumstance, NEVER ACTIVATE A PARROT OF UNCERTAINTY!” And apart for the book’s title, this is the only time in its thousand plus pages that capital letters are used throughout.
“Fendel!”
“Fendel!!! “
“Wake up, it’s me!”
Fendel opened his eyes and stared at the parrot of uncertainty he had clutched in his hand. The small LED screen flickered into life and read “reality difference – minus 0.137”.
“So that’s it, that’s all they do?!” he thought.
That thought however, he had so far neglected to survey his surroundings, and it should be noted that had he done this by now, he would have been perhaps a little more taken aback. Finally, he took a quick look around, and discovered the Renegade team were no longer anywhere to be seen. Instead, all around him carnage reigned. Fires burned all about, and smoke filled the sky, blotting out the light from the planet’s fourteen suns. He concluded he was still on Krassis because he could make out the remains of the water slides around him, albeit the broken and twisted remains of water slides. Whatever had happened here, Fendel decided had not had been a good thing. He had been to some crazy parties in his time, back in the 6000’s he had been somewhat of a wild child, and remembered one particular party on a small moon orbiting the planet Flan, where somebody had spiked the punch with time accelerators. What this meant was that a two day festival, in its time accelerated fuelled fashion, in actuality, resulted in some three and a half years of serious partying. After the festival was over, and its party goers returned to what we consider to be normal time, the moon was broken. People left with kids in tow, some seriously devalued pension packages, and a heartfelt desire never again to visit Flan. He remembered that the moon had had to binned in the end, and spent pretty much the entire next year in bed, drinking peppermint tea, and listening to a calming sounds of nature record.
“Fendel! You’re Fendel right?”
He turned to his right and saw Pierre, the leader of the resistance, who had just now succeeded in saving his very bacon.
“Hello Pierre, we haven’t met, Fendel, of Renegade TM fame,” he said, holding out his hand to shake.
“Mais oui my little friend, but how do you know my name? I thought I was the only one left!”
“Only one left?” he questioned, worrying that the brie had gone to his head.
“Yes, as in, there’s me, and then the Co-leen, and finally what little remains now of the universe!”
“Right,” he drawled, slightly worried about his newly made acquaintance, “look Pierre, where’s Slip?”
“Slip McGroovy?”
“Yes.”
“Dead.”
“Oh,” he replied, slightly perturbed.
“Okay, where’s Crinks?” he went on after a moment.
“Crinkle? Slip McGroovy’s number two?” Queried Pierre.
“Yes, that’s right, where is she, where’s Crinks?”
“Dead.”
“Oh, sure, okay.”
“Right,” began Fendel, thinking that he might as well go full circle now, “what about Pete, Pete Martin, the earthman?”
“Earthman? As in digital watches, great wall of China, and wonderful array of French cheeses?”
“Er, yes, if you like.”
“Never heard of him,” said Pierre deadpan.
“Pierre,” he began sullenly, “would you care to let me know what the hool is going on here?”
“There all dead, all of them, dead. It just you... me... them... that’s everybody, everybody!” sang the Frenchman, perhaps a little thoughtlessly.
“Look Pierre,” he began angrily, brandishing his parrot of uncertainty, “unless you tell me exactly what’s going on, I’m going to take this egg and make a home of you with it, understand?!”
This was more than enough of an incentive for the resistance leader, and he went onto relate a quite fantastical story, fantastical that is, if it had had any other recipient other than the quite mainstream rendering, fantastical Fendel of the Renegade team.
It turned out that he was now occupying a quite separate reality from the one in which he had quite recently enjoyed a laser fire fight with the Co-leen. The parrot of uncertainty he had activated had made him jump dimensions. No wonder then that their purpose had remained a mystery over the millennia, what with its operators shifting subtly through dimensions over time. It just so happened that in this Pierre’s reality, a strange one legged traveller had written a thesis on “their use, and the quite remarkable consequences of”, by the name of Long John Silver. Fendel however, was less than interested, and wanted to stick to the point at hand.
“So, basically what you’re saying is that everyone is dead?”
“Yes,” replied the Frenchman.
“That Renegade TM is no longer in this dimension?”
“Yes.”
“That it’s just you, me, and them, the Co-leen that is?”
“Yes.”
“And that if we don’t stop them, all of creation will end?”
“Yes, that’s about the long and short of it,” Pierre c
oncluded.
“Great, I like those odds, go fetch your beret my friend, we’ve got a war to win!”
15.
Slip, Pete, Crinkle and Pierre watched Fendel disappear in a puff of smoke as he activated the parrot of uncertainty.
“Puff of smoke, nice touch,” said Slip to no one in particular, “probably won’t be seeing him again for a while. I always knew those parrot devices were bad news. An egg just shouldn’t come with a button and LED screen, now with some toast and a nice cuppa, then that just works, nothing uncertain about that.”
“Right,” said Pete, “he’s just pushed an egg button and vanished in a puff of smoke. Anyone slightly concerned here?”
“He’ll be fine little one,” reassured Pierre, “everything happens for a reason.”
“Oh really,” said Pete sarcastically, “so what is the reason behind my ending up here on this crazy waterslide planet, with the Co-leen out to destroy both me and my home, and the fact that all that stands in their way, is me, you and your baguette, Crinkle, who it has to be said, is not the most imposing presence, and Mr big naked McGroovy over there?”
“Now hang on!” started Crinkle.
“Yeah, you just watch it earthman,” warned Slip, adjusting his beret as he spoke.
“I think monsieur Martin is tired, and is unaware of what he is saying,” put in Pierre in his defence.
Pete was not unaware of what he was saying, far from it in fact; however, at this present time, this motley crew was all he had, so he decided that rather than berate his companions further, he would accentuate the positive and try and provide some focus to the group.
“You’re right, I am tired,” he lied conveniently, “okay, let’s take a look at what we’ve got here, and then see if we can’t use it to our advantage, everyone agreed?”
“Agreed,” agreed everyone.
Some minutes later, once everyone had emptied their pockets, (Slip took the time to do some quite alarming star-jumps), they had amassed a small pile of both bizarre and revealing trinkets.
“Right,” he began, “so we have bread and cheese, thank-you Pierre, however I think that particular devastating combo has probably exceeded its usefulness by now.”
Pierre shrugged and lit a cigarette.
“Crinkle, you provided a hair brush, compact mirror, lipsticks and gloss, array of different eye-liners and blushers, hair dryer, hair tongs, a second hair dryer and three more sets of tongs, a factor 4000 suntan lotion, the pocket guide to “What men want – the diminutive perspective”, some chewing gum that’s meant to make your eyes shine whiter, oh and three more sets of hair tongs.”
“Yeah, well a girl’s got to look her best you know,” she replied nonchalantly.
“My dear, you are the very essence of beauty, if God had meant...” started Pierre.
“Pierre,” interrupted Pete, “another time perhaps?”
Pierre shrugged and lit a cigarette.
“Slip, anything to put in?” asked Pete.
“Well apart from my beret, which I must say I am becoming particularly fond of, I can only offer my services.”
“Services huh, well that’s just great, we can go up against the Co-leen with a packed lunch, your services, oh and remarkably well groomed hair, terrific! Hang on what’s that?” he asked suddenly, pointing at the ground from which Fendel had just vanished.
“Oh that’s his time travelling device,” put in Crinkle, “bought it off some Gorritz.”
“Time travelling device, as in travelling through time?” he asked, somewhat amazed at the casualness of it all.
“Yep.”
“Backwards through time, forwards through time, that sort of thing?”
“Yep.”
“So we can go anywhere we want to in time, the past, the future, anywhere?”
“Yep.”
“And this is all quite unremarkable to you all?”
“Yep.”
“But this is amazing,” exclaimed Pete, his mind racing, “this is exactly what we need!”
“Now, now mon ami, time travel is not exactly a strictly legal affair,” put in Pierre, “you could be done for ATH.”
“ATH?” he asked.
“Actual temporal harm.” explained Pierre.
“But we’d only need to change a few things,” he argued, “all we’d need to do, is go back to a point before when the Co-leen had decided to take it upon themselves to go around the universe destroying everything, and then stop them, simple.”
“Stop them,” said Crinkle with a raised eyebrow, “and how, pray tell, would we stop them exactly?”
“I dunno, we could make them see reason. Appeal to their better nature if you like.”
“Better nature, ha!” laughed Slip, “this is the Co-leen we’re talking about.”
“Well I’m sure they weren’t always bad, they’ve probably had a difficult upbringing that’s all, you know, as a species that is.”
“Those creeps have never had a bad thing happen to them in their entire history! They’re just evil, downright bad eggs, not the sort you could enjoy some toast and a nice cuppa with, if you get my drift?!” stressed Slip, who was beginning to feel hungry.
“Yeah, what is it Mormid says?” started Crinkle, “it’s the Co-leen’s God-given right to exercise execution to those who don’t measure up, and by that what he really means is, if you’re not Co-leen then prepare to die.”
“Mormid?” questioned Pete, “who’s Mormid?”
“He’s their ruler,” explained Slip, “you know, as in the Ruler of the Rulers of everything and anything they may have missed in the course of ruling everything.”
“Oh right, then he’s our man!” exclaimed Pete, “all we need to do is convince him, and then everything else will fall into place.”
“He’s more computer now than Co-leen, he’s been alive so many millennia it’s a wonder that he isn’t part of some creepy techno—museum!” said Crinkle.
“Computer?!” said Pete aghast, “what happened, some kind of terrible accident?”
“The computers keep him alive now, feeding him chunks of raw data,” she went on, “some say that he has so many cybernetic parts, that his soul is now digital, and that he keeps a backup copy of himself on the Co-leen computer master-frame, and then simply downloads himself again, when one consciousness fails.”
“Oh, that’s lovely,” commented Pete, thinking about his little laptop at home and worrying that it may in fact possess unsavoury designs on his physicality.
“Okay sure,” he continued, “but there was a time when this Mormid was not a computer, right?”
“S’pose.”
“And we have a time machine yes?”
“Yep.”
“So all we need to do is travel back in time to Mormid’s pre-computer days, take him for a pint, and win him round to our view of the universe and our “live and let live” way of seeing things!” he finished, feeling rather chuffed with himself.
“Oh is that all?!” she replied sarcastically.
“And what about ATH?” asked Pierre, blowing a smoke ring.
“That’s where I come in!” put in Slip, who up until then had been uncharacteristically quiet.
“Oh,” said Pierre, “and what do you propose?”
“Well, those chinless wonders are tracking all the time currents yeah?”
“Oui mon ami, so as soon as you attempted to travel in time, they’d pick up on it immediately and then come down on you hard.”
“Sure thing Frenchy, but let’s suppose they did pick up on it, but were too distracted to do anything about it.”
“What are you talking about Slip?” asked Crinkle.
“Just this Crinks, we go on the thoughtwaves, boost the power, and make it impossible to think about anything else other than Renegade TM.”
“Okay, but where are you gonna get all this power exactly?”
Slip smiled and pointed to the fourteen suns in orbit above them.
“Magnifiqu
e!” declared Pierre, giving him a hearty pat on the back.
“Yeah great, loads of suns, big deal,” said Pete, far more concerned as he was, with how red his shoulders had gone.
“No you ape,” began Crinkle, “what Slip’s getting at is, we’ll harness the gravitational pull of all those suns, translate that power through the Humdinger’s energy converter, crank up the transcranial modulation unit, and let rip upon every mind in the universe!”
“Yeah I know,” lied Pete in a small voice, only just above a whisper.
“So everybody, the plan’s the man,” said Slip, “what about you Frenchy, we could use someone who knows his way around a fine cheese?”
“Thank-you my friend, but my fight is here, I have a resistance to lead!”
That said, Pierre pulled an emergency beret from his pocket, and placing it at a devilishly agreeable angle on his head, lit a cigarette and left.
“Oh my friends,” he said turning, “I am sure we shall meet again someday. Au revoir et bon chance!”
“What a lovely man,” commented Crinkle, watching him as he walked back to his resistance pals.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” said Pete.
“Right then my little Renegades,” started Slip, “it’s high time we were deep inside everybody’s minds. Back to the Humdinger gang, the past beckons!”
16.
Fendel and Pierre made their way through the fiery ruins of Krassis. In this reality, the Co-leen had taken their dislike of other species to an entirely new level, having made extinct all other forms of sentient life, all that is, were it not for the Co-leen resistance leader Pierre. Fendel was feeling quite un-amused by the scale of destruction he was witnessing, and walking past the umpteenth burned and mutilated structure, thought he would find out if Pierre had some idea as to what a next course of action might entail.
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