“Ah hah,” exclaimed Harr, pointing at Parfait. “I knew this was a setup!”
“Uh oh,” Parfait said, clearly recognizing that the jig was up.
The room did a collective “gasp” as the old man slunk back down into his plush chair. He was busted and everyone knew it.
The Boas turned their attention to milling about and staring fixedly at their own feet. The only two who seemed exceedingly pleased at their own feet were the ones who were wearing Moon’s shoes. Moon walked over to retrieve them.
Parfait looked up at Harr eventually and said, “How did you know, Captain?”
“A few things clued me in, actually. First off, the Boas as a gang? Really?”
“Doesn’t sound tough enough?” asked Parfait.
“Hardly,” answered Harr. “Secondly, you looked a little too pampered there in your high-backed throne, especially since you had a couple of men waving fans at you. Seems like an exceedingly kind way to treat a prisoner.”
Parfait raised an eyebrow. “Hadn’t thought of that.”
“Third, the men you had fanning you looked awfully familiar.”
“You shouldn’t have been able to see their faces,” said a shocked Parfait.
“Didn’t need to,” Harr replied. “It only takes one look at the tattoo on that arm to see that it says ‘Orion Murphy,’ which,” he added as he pulled up his sleeve to reveal an exact replica of the tattoo on his own arm, “made it clear that it was supposed to be me.”
“Damn.”
“And the other man has the look of a fellow carrying—as Commander Sandoo put it—his pet python around in his pants.”
“Wait,” said Jezden, “that’s supposed to be me?”
“Clearly,” answered Harr with a grimace.
Parfait was nodding now. He crossed his legs and signaled the two men at his sides to resume their fanning.
“What about the disco?” he asked Harr.
“That’s point four,” Harr responded. “Remember when you had me undergo the face alteration surgery and the personality adjustments in order to build me up with a new identity?”
“Of course I do, man,” Parfait replied irritably. “I’m not that old. I was the one who orchestrated the particulars, including your strong chin, platinum blond hair, perfect teeth, a little extra heft in your nether region, a permanent tan, and your love for dancing ...” His head popped up. “Oh, right.”
“Exactly. I’ve always wondered why I had this deep-seated urge to dance to disco since that day, especially since I despise disco.”
“You did it so well, though,” Parfait replied enthusiastically. “Even your men did a wonderful job, though Ensign Jezden was being pulled to the left a lot as he was dancing.”
“Hangs that way,” Jezden said with a shrug. “Can’t help it.”
“It really stands out in this light, too,” Parfait said as if he’d discovered the key to happiness. “Goodness, me. I daresay that it helps me with the lyrics of that song you just played, too.”
“How?” asked Jezden.
Parfait slowly smiled and said, “It turns my frown upside down.”
“What I want to know is, why?” Harr said, ignoring Parfait’s entranced state with Jezden’s member.
“Because it’s enormous,” Parfait replied matter-of-factly. “Why, it reminds me of a time when I was stuck in a holding cell on Yesplatt-11. There was another cadet in there who had quite a monstrous—”
Rod. Guard Rod Beckensworth, please come to the front desk.
“Honestly not surprised at that one at all,” stated Ridly.
“No, sir,” Harr said, feeling very tired. “I don’t care about your thoughts on Jezden’s anatomy. Just to be clear on that point, I never care to hear your thoughts on Jezden’s or anyone’s anatomy. What I’m asking is why you put us through all of this?”
“Ah, yes, I see.” Parfait shifted in the chair and grabbed a handful of grapes. “Well, Captain, it was my fantasy.”
“Your fantasy?”
“I work hard to make sure everyone gets the fantasy that they want on this planet. It is my job, you know?” Harr did not respond. “Well, I needed a break from all that work, and so I thought about what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go ... and I found that I missed the Platoon F squad and the action of being a part of the SSMC.”
“Are you saying that I gave up Norklandia so that I could participate in his shitty fantasy?” Jezden said hotly.
“Seems so, Ensign,” replied Harr while shaking his head. “Seems so.”
THE GETAWAY
Once it was determined that there was no way into the core without disembarking their ships, Plock, Clack, and Fluck made their way towards the tube so that they could get back to The Ship.
Plock would have preferred a simple transport solution, but the walls down here were built with some substance that made it impossible to get a signal through. This meant that they had to get to the control room before initiating transfer.
“Keep your eyes open,” Plock commanded as they headed back out into the main chamber.
“What sense would there be in closing them?” Fluck asked. “Honestly, I can’t fathom how you became a commander, Plock.”
“Cut the chatter, Fluck,” Plock said.
“Sir, the roaches are back!”
Damn. He had fully expected another attack, but a part of him had hoped it wouldn’t come.
“Where are they?”
“There’s one set off to the left,” Fluck announced.
“And another set is coming in from the right,” added Clack.
Plock glanced over his shoulder. As expected, yet another grouping of the bastards were on their tail. Clearly these insects weren’t as stupid as the ones back on their home world.
“They’re trying to bottle us up,” Plock said.
“Duh,” Fluck noted.
“At least they don’t have any weapons—”
“They’re firing on us, sir!”
“Shit.”
Plock ran through different options in his head. If they were straight fire-and-forget projectiles, they could just dodge them, but if they had homing capability, they were screwed. Well, Plock would be anyway. He’d take the hit so the other two could get away. It was at that moment that even he had wished that Fluck had been named commander of this crew.
“Clack,” he asked hopefully, “are they homing missiles?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Clack answered. “I don’t even think they’re missiles. Honestly, sir, I have no idea what those things are.”
“Good. On my mark, we lay on the thrusters.” Both pilots affirmed the command as Plock waited and waited, and then yelled, “Now!”
Thrusters engaged, bolting them forward as the projectiles zipped safely behind them.
Plock craned his neck to see that the roaches were trying desperately to get out of the way of their own weapons. They failed, which only reinforced that those insects were a nasty bunch.
The projectiles had definitely not been missiles. It was spit. When that spit connected with the other roaches, they immediately melted in a gaseous green glow, and their screams were so loud and deeply anguished that they could be heard through the sealed ship walls.
“Holy shit,” Fluck said. “That was powerful.”
“Glad we didn’t get hit by those things,” Clack agreed. “Your maneuver saved our lives, sir. It’s yet another testament to the genius of your command.”
They entered the tube, getting just far enough inside so that the remaining roaches couldn’t get to them.
Plock blew out a relieved breath. There were definitely benefits to being tiny.
They navigated back through the tubes in silence, and the moment they exited the other side and out into the control room, Plock hit the transporter button.
Once the docking bay of the ship came into view, Plock sighed in relief at the fact that they’d made it safely back home. Being a commander was a stressful thing, especially when
you had Fluck on your crew.
He climbed out of his ship and headed down to ramp section to talk with Goozer and Geezer about what they’d found.
Fluck and Clack had wanted to join him, but Plock had already had enough of his wingmen during this adventure, so he told them to stay behind.
Clack replied that she’d understood and thanked him again for being such an awesome commander.
Fluck’s response sounded similar to the man’s name, but a letter had clearly gone missing.
ON TOP
After Parfait’s fantasy broke up, the crew headed back to the Fantasy Planet command center. They didn’t speak much during their walk. Harr couldn’t say why the others were being quiet, but for him it was just a case of feeling completely disturbed by the entire ordeal.
They arrived to find Frexle was in the room. He was still trying to break in to the main system, and based on all of the notes lying around, Harr assumed he’d found no real success.
The crew filled him in on the details.
“Wait,” Frexle was saying to Parfait, “are you saying that you kidnapped yourself?”
“I do lots of things with myself,” answered Parfait.
“Such as.”
“Well—”
“Trust me,” Harr interrupted quickly, “you don’t want to go there.”
“You’re no fun, Captain,” complained Parfait. “You used to be so much more open and playful.”
“No, I never was.”
“I suppose not.”
Frexle waggled his finger, stopped, grunted a few times, gave one of those “that could be it” kind of looks, and then waggled his finger again.
“What I want to know is, why?” he said, finally.
“Because those damn doctors refused to alter Harr’s emotions regarding how he feels towards older men, I suppose.”
“No,” Frexle said. “I don’t care why Captain Harr was never open and playful. I want to know why you’d have yourself kidnapped and put everyone through all of this?”
“Oh, because I wanted to see the Platoon F crew again.”
“I don’t buy that,” Frexle stated.
“Me either,” Harr agreed.
Frexle appeared taken aback by this reaction. “What are your thoughts on this, Captain?”
“Simple. He already had replicas of both Jezden and me in his fantasy, and those replicas were definitely programmed to fit his particular interests.”
“Indeed they were,” admitted Parfait, “though the Jezden model took up far too much memory.”
“Ew,” said Jezden.
“I don’t understand.”
“Look down, Frexle,” Harr replied, pointing at Jezden’s particular situation.
Frexle’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Why in the universe would you bring your pet python with you to a—”
“We’ve already been down that road, Frexle,” Harr interrupted. “That’s not a python, it’s his—”
“Planet Head Parfait, sir!” Inkblot said joyously as she bolted into the room. “You’re back!” She then glanced around at all of the irritated faces in the room. “Oh boy.”
“They figured us out, Inkblot.”
“So it seems.”
Harr wanted to give her a piece of his mind, but he was in the unique position of understanding what it meant to work for Stanley Parfait. If anything, he should probably sit down with Inkblot and share a drink of commiseration.
“As I was saying,” continued Harr, “he could have all he wants and more inside of the fantasy, which means that he’s really after something else.”
“Well done, Captain,” Frexle said appraisingly. “My conclusion exactly.”
“Well done, indeed,” agreed Parfait. “Your sleuthing skills are quite fascinating. It reminds me of a time when I was a cadet—”
“Okay, okay, let’s not go down that road,” Harr said, waving his hands frantically. “Why are we really here?”
Parfait took a deep breath and plopped down in one of the desk chairs. While he was wearing a somewhat normal outfit, there was something about the man that declared he should be clothed in a long white robe that had a matching pointed hat. This had actually happened during their mission to a planet called Earth while Parfait and the squad of Platoon F had still been members of the SSMC.
“Fine,” said Parfait dejectedly. “I guess you’ve got me dead to rights. I’m trying to figure out how this damn planet works because the guy that owns it is a real tool.”
Frexle appeared to take a heavy interest in this. “You’ve seen the owner of this planet?”
“Why does that matter?” asked Harr.
“I’m merely asking a question, Captain.”
“Never have, no,” answered Parfait. “He’s always in the shadows.”
“Do you know his name?”
“He goes by the initials L.O.V.,” answered Inkblot before Parfait could respond.
Frexle leaned back against the wall and brought his hand to his chin. “Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?” asked Harr.
“No reason.”
“I would assume it’s because it spells ‘love,’ Captain,” stated Parfait.
“Actually, it spells ‘Lov,’” Harr replied with a hint of grit. “There wasn’t an ‘e’ at the end.”
“Picky,” Parfait said.
“Again,” Harr pressed, “why is that interesting to you, Frexle?”
“It’s a puzzle, Captain. I enjoy getting caught up in them.” Frexle pushed off the wall and uncrossed his arms. “Unfortunately, Mr. Parfait, we will be unable to assist you.”
“Why?”
“Because our ... employer ... is quite adamant about our leaving this Fantasy Planet of yours immediately.”
This time it was Harr’s turn to ask the obvious. “I still don’t get that. Why does he care?”
“Come now, Captain,” Frexle replied. “The Overseers are already more than concerned regarding the tech on The SSMC Reluctant, do you really think they’re all that fond of you potentially learning even more than you already know?”
Harr grunted. For all their self-described intellect, the Overseers sure were some of the dumbest people that Harr had ever encountered. How smart could a people be who spent their entire existence ensuring that no other people could ever achieve a level of sophistication that could spell that those people were smarter? Besides, who decided precisely what constituted “smart” anyway?
He tapped his wristband.
“Geezer, you there?”
“Here, honcho,” Geezer replied.
“We’re about ready to head back up.”
“Sounds good, but real quick I wanted to let Inkblot and Frexle know that we didn’t get much information from the little guys regarding the core, except that the only way in seems to be through a mesh obstruction that even their ships couldn’t fit through.”
“Damn,” said Frexle, snapping his fingers.
“Got it,” replied Inkblot. “Thanks, Geezer.”
“Sorry for the bad news, fella,” Geezer said.
“I’m not a fella!” Inkblot replied.
“Right, sorry.”
Parfait arose from his chair and stepped over towards Harr.
Harr wisely turned to face the Fantasy Planet Head.
“Sorry to have brought you out of your way, Captain. I was truly hoping you could help us.”
“Could have simply asked, sir,” Harr replied evenly.
“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, doesn’t look like you’ll be helping anyway.”
“Sorry,” stated Frexle, “but you’re right. They won’t be. We need to leave this planet now and I need to get back to meet with the Lord Overseer.”
“Right,” Harr said, sighing.
“Hey, chief,” Geezer said, “I’ve got Middleton and Curr in here. They say they’ve been trying to get through to you, but your channel has been blocked.”
Harr didn’t know what channel they were tr
ying to get through to exactly, but if it was blocked, he had no idea how. Probably had something to do with the Sillyillium.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Captain,” said Middleton through the comm, “you know how you’ve said that any time we want to leave the crew, we can?”
“Yes,” Harr said with a tilt of his head.
“We want to leave the crew,” Curr stated.
On the one hand, Harr had to admit that he felt a sense of relief at hearing this. Middleton and Curr did little but argue and snap at each other anyway. They were more of a nuisance most days than they were a help. At the same time, Harr had just lost Dr. DeKella from his life and now he was about to lose two more people. It wasn’t quite the same thing, no, but it kind of hurt nonetheless.
“May I ask why?” he asked.
“Honestly,” answered Middleton, “it’s not fun anymore. Me and Curr used to be pals up until that mission to Earth. Since then it’s been all downhill.”
“Exactly,” Curr said next, for once not disagreeing with Middleton. “We think it’s time for a new start and we wanted to know if maybe we could work on Fantasy Planet.”
Harr glanced at the rest of the crew. They were all nodding as if this move had made sense.
“I see,” said Harr. “Obviously, I’ll respect your decision, gentlemen, but I can’t guarantee that Mr. Parfait will have any available jobs.”
Inkblot stepped up. “We could use a couple of engineers to help us fix the remote units when they fail. The people we have now aren’t all that great.”
“Sounds terrific,” said Middleton.
“I’m in,” Curr agreed.
An instant later the two androids faded into view, along with Grog and Vlak, who Inkblot had also promised to help find jobs on the planet.
Middleton and Curr were both smiling, which was something that Harr was not used to seeing, especially while in the same room with each other.
Grok and Vlak, contrarily, looked forlorn.
“If any of the rest of you want out,” Harr said as he looked at Ridly, Moon, Sandoo, and Jezden, “now’s your chance.” They all stared at him with frowns. “Look, I saw the way you all treated me in your fantasies.” They started to reply, except for Jezden, but he held up his hand to silence them. “I’m not angry about it.” He paused. “Maybe I’m a little disturbed, but I’m not angry. The fact is that Platoon F can never give you what your fantasies showed that you really want.”
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 37