Trek It!

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Just three months ago, Harvey had drifted into their sector in a ramshackle lifeboat. Far from Interplanetary Alliance space, he had been the only survivor of the destruction of a Gorlack pirate vessel (coincidentally, the site of a failed scam of Harvey’s involving synthetic tritonium and tainted Gorlack bloodwine -- coincidentally).

  Rescued from the brink of death by the Forbosians, Harvey had sized up his new friends...and seized his opportunity. Sweet-talking the guileless giants had been child’s play; by the time he’d gotten through with them, the self-proclaimed “Doctor of Philanthropy” had seemed the only possible choice to head the Forbosian Foundation.

  Or, as it was now known, the Interplanetary Widows and Orphans Fund Unlimited.

  Silver body swaying, Parso Poncil blinked at Harvey -- one eye at a time, first left, then right. “How is the good work going?" he asked softly.

  Reflexively, Harvey Murk stepped back from his lofty host and sat on the edge of the desk. Parso and all Forbosians constantly swayed, their long gleaming bodies waving back and forth and side to side...but it seemed to Harvey that they were always teetering on the verge of toppling over.

  “Better than I could ever have hoped,” Harvey said serenely, folding his arms over his chest. For a moment, he stroked his handlebar mustache and stared wistfully off into space. “Thanks to the generosity of your people, the downtrodden rejoice,” he said finally, his voice catching with emotion.

  “Thanks to my people, and your stewardship,” said Parso Poncil, nodding graciously.

  Harvey winced and waved with mock humility. “Pish tosh,” he grunted. “I am but a servant.” Sniffing and shrugging, he patted the computer terminal on the desktop beside him. “It is your wealth, your kindness, that brings hope to the hopeless.”

  Again patting the terminal, Harvey favored it with a fond glance. According to the numbers on its screen, the Forbosians’ project would indeed benefit the poor -- poor Harvey Murk, that is.

  To be sure, Harvey would throw a bone to the unfortunates; he had to, or risk detection. After liquidating Forbosian wealth, he would channel a percentage into relief efforts...but the percentage would be very small. Very, very small.

  And Harvey’s percentage, which the Forbosians didn’t even know he was getting, would be very big. Very, very, very big.

  And then some.

  To say the least, Harvey’s ship had come in. The whole fleet, actually.

  “Harvey,” whispered Parso Poncil, swaying like seaweed in a tide. “We love you.”

  “And I,” rumbled Harvey, his voice dripping with sincere affection, “love you. I adore each and every one of you.” Smiling broadly, he spread his arms wide.

  He really did love them. They were just such perfect suckers.

  “So,” sighed Harvey. “What can I do you for, Parso amigo?”

  The silvery humanoid stopped swaying for an instant, as if confused by Murk’s unorthodox parlance; then, with a shiver, he resumed the movement. “Harvey, I’ve brought you a client.”

  Though he didn’t stop smiling, Harvey stiffened. “Oh, really?" he said evenly, reaching up to smooth his mustache.

  “They are in dire need,” said Parso Poncil, nodding.

  “I see,” Harvey said sympathetically. “Well, once they’ve filed the proper paperwork, I’ll have to make arrangements for semi-immediate consideration of a non-binding proposal for possible future review of non-specific assistance for them.”

  Parso Poncil shook his head. Turning, he looked toward the doorway. “They’re here now,” he said. “Please come in.”

  Pushing away from the edge of the desk, Harvey opened his mouth...but didn’t know what to say.

  Three creatures hobbled into the room, all ears and pointed teeth. The biggest was no taller than five feet in height, a marked contrast to Parso Poncil’s eight feet plus.

  The instant he laid eyes on them, Harvey knew they were trouble. Before they said a single word, every warning bell in his con man’s brain went off at once.

  “These are the Finagi,” Parso said warmly.

  Harvey had never seen their like before. He had never heard of them, either.

  But he knew they were trouble. Big trouble.

  “And this,” said Parso, gesturing at the lead creature, “is Zep.”

  “P-pleased to meet you,” Zep said shakily, staring at Harvey’s feet. “Can you h-help us?”

  Reaching down, Parso patted Zep’s smooth, pink head. Zep flinched like a whipped dog, then gazed up adoringly at his benefactor.

  “Of course we can help you,” Parso said sweetly in his little girl voice. “You’re in good hands,” he assured the Finagi, and then he left the room.

  *****

  When Captain Zep raised his eyes for a glimpse of the Forbosians’ agent, he had to fight to restrain a laugh. For one thing, the being was comical in appearance -- seemingly, as wide around the middle as Parso Poncil was tall.

  For another thing, it was an Earther, of a species known to the Finagi...and enthusiastically avoided.

  Founders of a distant planetary union known as the Interplanetary Alliance, Earthers -- or humans -- were widely derided...and despised. They lived far away, and it was a good thing, for the Finagi wanted nothing to do with them.

  As incredible -- and sick -- as it might seem, according to various traders who had done business with the Finagi, the humans did not do business. Apparently, they had created a twisted “utopia” in which all needs were met...and worse, there was no currency.

  No currency.

  Zep really had to fight not to laugh. The creature in front of him looked even more ridiculous than the many outlandish cartoons he’d seen lampooning the sorry species.

  No currency, indeed.

  “You are so g-generous with your t-time, m-meeting us like this,” Zep said meekly, maintaining a beaten, subservient attitude.

  The human shrugged and looked away. “One does what one can,” he muttered.

  Zep shuffled forward a few steps. Head bowed, voice quivering with false timidity, he began his tale of woe.

  “Our h-homeworld has been d-devastated b-by invaders,” stammered Zep. “They w-wiped out our defenses, stole everything of v-value, and d-demolished our cities.

  “They k-killed millions. They p-poisoned the land and w-water so the survivors c-cannot g-grow food.

  “Our world is at an end,” Zep said solemnly, and then he paused for dramatic effect. Fists clenched at his sides, he dipped his head even lower. “We are a proud people,” he said, his voice catching, “but we know we need help.”

  Again, Zep wanted to laugh...but it was just because he was having so much fun.

  Playing the part of a dispirited, pitiful beggar from a conquered world was a challenge, because Zep and his home planet could not have been more the opposite. He, captain of the Finagi commerce fleet flagship, was a wealthy rising star with youthful good looks and a bright future; his homeworld Finaginar was at the height of an economic Renaissance and had begun to gather around it a powerful trading alliance.

  He was the youngest Captain ever, from the richest world in the quadrant. Playing a pauper, succeeding in this ruse, required exquisite heights of deceit...nirvana for a cagey and unprincipled opportunist like himself.

  Best of all, the potential reward for this act would be enormous. Bigger than enormous.

  Even bigger than that.

  “Any aid would b-be appreciated,” said Zep, raising his head to peek fearfully at the Earther. “Any little b-bit would be a b-blessing.”

  Any little bit, indeed.

  Captain Zep wanted nothing less than everything. He wanted to make the Forbosians’ wealth his own, every last bit of it.

  He was sure he could do it, too. The aliens towered physically and inhabited a moral high ground...but they were childlike (not like Finagi children, of course, but those of other species) and gullible. As for the Earther...

  “I’ll see what I can do,” promised Harvey Murk, show
ing Zep and his party to the door. “I believe we can come to some sort of...arrangement.”

  As for the Earther, he was no match for Zep.

  “Run along now,” said Harvey Murk, giving Zep a push through the doorway. “I’ll call with the good news.”

  No match at all. No currency, indeed.

  *****

  After transporting back to his ship, the Acquisitor, Zep kept his crew busy analyzing sensor data from the planet’s surface. Since he planned to take it all eventually, the Captain wanted a complete picture of the Forbosians’ riches.

  As he pored over the incoming reports, Zep was amazed. Forbos was a treasure trove, rich beyond imagining in gold, zeerite, diamonds, tritonium -- every precious substance known to Finagi science and commerce.

  Stumbling upon this world had been an incredible stroke of luck.

  The Acquisitor had found Forbos in the course of a far-reaching exploratory mission. Searching for new worlds to plunder or trade with, Zep had come across this treasure...and had learned of its philanthropic plans.

  The rest was history in the making. If these people wanted to give it all away, he’d decided, he would take it...and become the single greatest Captain in the annals of the Finagi.

  Studying yet another report on Forbos from his sensor teams and accountants, Zep grinned and spun around in his command chair at the center of the ship’s bridge. Raising the data pad over his head, he pumped it in the air and whooped.

  “There’s rich, and then there’s rich,” he told the grinning bridge crew. “We’re going to be rich!”

  The crew cheered and clapped as he shook the pad in the air and gave his chair another spin.

  When the communications officer first spoke up, nobody heard him. There was another cheer, and somebody started singing a profit shanty...so communications had to yell for attention.

  “Captain Zep!" he shouted, and the singing stopped. “We’re being hailed by Harvey Murk on the surface!”

  Calling for immediate silence, Zep rose from his chair. He took a deep breath, then exhaled, and let his shoulders slump.

  The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a miserable frown. Reaching up, he tugged the tunic of his gray uniform askew.

  “Open the channel,” ordered Zep, and the communications officer complied.

  When the Earther appeared on the main viewscreen, Zep again had to hold back the laughter. What a face!

  “G-greetings, M-Mister Murk,” said Zep, his voice a trembling squeak. “Do you have g-good n-news?”

  “Good news indeed!" boomed the human, smiling broadly. “The Forbosians and I were so deeply touched by the tragic story of your people, we have unanimously decided to render immediate and comprehensive assistance to the Finagi.”

  He wanted to leer with delight, but Zep kept a straight face and only nodded. “That is wonderful news,” he said quietly, sniffling and brushing aside a nonexistent tear. “B-bless you all.”

  “Bless you, Mr. Zep,” said Harvey. “Bless you and all your teensy-weensy little friends.”

  Zep brushed at another imaginary tear. “I d-do not wish t-to seem impatient,” he squeaked, “but my p-people are desperate. When will this assistance b-begin? What arrangements m-must we m-make?”

  “No arrangements necessary,” grinned the Earther. “It’s all been taken care of...and, as I said, it is immediate.

  “The Forbosian invasion fleet now has you surrounded. Just lead them to your homeworld, and they’ll take care of the rest.

  “Good day,” said the Earther, and then he did something the Finagi had never seen.

  He winked. He grinned and he winked right at them.

  And then, he cut off the communication and disappeared from the screen.

  *****

  For a split-second, the Finagi bridge was silent.

  Zep stared at the blank viewscreen. Someone coughed.

  When at last the Captain spoke, his voice was low and calm. “Tactical,” he said. “What’s this about an invasion fleet?”

  The tactical officer operated controls at his station and watched flickering readouts. When the work was done, he looked up and cleared his throat.

  “Yes,” said the tactical officer.

  “‘Yes’ what?" Captain Zep asked coolly.

  “Two hundred and fifty heavily armed warships,” said the tactical officer. “Each one five times our size, one hundred times our firepower.”

  “I see,” said Captain Zep. “Interesting.”

  Then, he screamed.

  “Get that Earther back on the screen!" bellowed Zep. “Do it now!”

  The communications officer scrambled, but Harvey Murk didn’t answer at first. It took five minutes of hailing -- and Zep screaming -- to reopen the channel and return the human to the main viewscreen.

  Innocently, Harvey smiled and gazed at the Finagi leader. “How may I help you?" he said smoothly.

  Zep came close to erupting...but managed to subdue his rage and restore his phony pathetic persona. “Mister M-Murk,” he mumbled meekly. “I’m afraid I d-don’t quite understand.

  “We asked f-for assistance. We really have n-no need for an invasion f-fleet.”

  The Earther raised a chubby index finger and wagged it instructively. “Oh, but you do,” he purred. “You need protection from the brigands who despoiled your homeworld. You need volunteers and hardware to cleanse the poisoned environment and rebuild the cities. You need someone to restore order.”

  “No, not really,” interjected Zep. “We just need a handout, that’s all.”

  “A handout? And then the selfsame scoundrels who conquered you before return to take it away? That simply won’t do.” Murk shook his index finger at Zep and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “No, my little pipsqueak friend. What you need is an overseer, a race to act as a fairy godmother of sorts.”

  “A fairy what?" said Zep.

  “The Forbosians will take very good care of you and your poor little world. Then, in a couple of -- oh, generations, centuries -- when they think you’re ready to leave the nest, they’ll let you start dating again.”

  Zep was becoming exasperated. “What are you talking about?" he blurted, falling out of character.

  “Thank you so much for stopping by,” said the Earther, stroking his mustache. “It’s been a slice. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

  Zep completely abandoned his meek and mild routine. “I will not excuse you!" he howled, shaking a fist at the screen.

  But it was too late. The screen was blank.

  “Murk!" screamed Captain Zep, his features red and pinched with rage. “Muuuuurrrrkkk!”

  *****

  Harvey Murk had won.

  It took several hours for Zep to admit it...but eventually, he did.

  It wasn’t a pleasant thing to accept...but Zep was as practical as he was cunning, and he always knew just the right time to cut his losses.

  Setting off an invasion of Finaginar by superior alien forces was just the right time.

  The Forbosian threat was overwhelming and imminent. Leading that vast fleet to Finaginar could spell the end of the homeworld; if the Forbosians didn’t blindly rush in with guns blazing, they might bear down anyway when they realized the Finagi had lied about their poverty.

  Whenever he thought about how badly he’d misjudged the Earther, Zep cracked his knuckles and hissed. It had been an awful mistake.

  The Captain had let rumors and bigotry color his perceptions of a species he’d never encountered, not even once, until now. He’d embraced innuendoes and generalizations instead of relying on direct observation.

  He’d been all too willing to accept a negative impression of the human...and the human had turned out to be as wily and deceitful as any Finagi.

  In short, Harvey Murk was a being of distinction. Zep knew that now.

  And Harvey Murk had won.

  Zep knew what he had to do next...which was why -- just as soon as he’d calmed down -- he beamed into the middle of M
urk’s office on the planet’s surface.

  Looking up from the computer terminal on his desk, the human did not seem much surprised by Zep’s unannounced visit. “Out!" he commanded, scowling -- but he didn’t even get out of his chair.

  “We need to talk,” said Captain Zep, every trace of his earlier milquetoast alter ego gone for good. “I’m putting an offer on the table.”

  “How generous,” sneered Harvey, and then he smacked his hands upon the desktop and lunged from his chair. “If you had anything to offer, I would listen -- but you do not! Now out with you!”

  “Harvey, I believe you’re a reasonable man,” said the Finagi.

  “Then you believe incorrectly,” snapped Murk. “Get out or I’ll summon the constabulary!”

  “I’m also a reasonable man, Harvey,” continued Zep. “As such, I can’t help but wonder if a full-scale invasion of my homeworld is really necessary.”

  “Evidently, it is,” shrugged Harvey. “Now begone!”

  “Perhaps, the resources required for an invasion could be better put to use elsewhere. Perhaps, a contribution from an interested party could kick off that new relief effort.”

  “We have nothing left to talk about! Good day, sir!" shouted Harvey, as if his visitor were hard of hearing.

  His big-eared visitor was exactly the opposite, and Harvey’s hollering hurt...but Zep didn’t let it show. “As it so happens,” he continued, “we are in a position to make that contribution!”

  For once, Harvey Murk fell silent.

  “During a routine inventory conducted just one hour ago, we turned up a supply of gold ingots and Andorian flame crystals in one of our cargo bays. Perhaps, an exchange is possible.”

  “The audacity!" gasped Harvey, eyes wide with shock and offense. “Are you suggesting bribery, sir?”

  “A donation,” corrected Captain Zep. “And it’s all the more meaningful because it comes from the needy, impoverished Finagi. In a heroic gesture of true interplanetary goodwill, we give from our own need to help those even less fortunate than ourselves.”